


Woman

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Confrontation, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Honesty, How to Date, Love, M/M, Secret Identity, date, dating site, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock thinks he's figured out the perfect way to show John that they're a perfect match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock Becomes Sharon

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Sherlock was sick of watching John go out on dates.

He was sick of watching John come home from dates.         

He was sick of knowing that John's perfect mate was right here in this flat, waiting for him. Sherlock was John's perfect mate, but John was completely oblivious to that fact.   

So Sherlock had decided he needed to do something. And that's exactly what he was doing right now.          

Clearly John's issue was gender-based. Sherlock knew that John cared for him, he knew that John was aware that their relationship was unlike any other either of them had ever experienced. But that difference was not enough to open John's mind to other possibilities. Anytime someone else made a comment about their 'closeness', John jumped all over the comment in an extremely unpleasant way. And the few times Sherlock himself had tried to broach the topic, it had seemed to go right over John's head.           

Thus Sherlock accepted that some trickery was going to be required. He didn't feel entirely okay about it, but the ends -- their being together properly -- surely justified the means, he'd convinced himself.          

He was now sitting at his desk creating a profile on the online dating site he knew John used. A woman's profile. Online at least, Sherlock Holmes was a woman. A woman named Sharon Ford.          

He wanted to make the profile as true to him as he could: he accurately described his own age, body type, hair and eye colour, and personality (though, admittedly he used words with slightly more positive connotations -- stubborn became determined, unpleasant turned into 'not into small talk'). For his profile picture, he uploaded a piece of art he knew John liked and which Sherlock did not hate. He answered as many of the stupid questions as possible, though how and why this site -- or John -- thought they were relevant to compatibility, Sherlock had no idea. But by the time he was finished, everything there was pure Sherlock Holmes, except for the gender.          

Step One was done. Now all Sherlock had to do was make John fall in love with him. Or rather her.      

Sherlock found John quite quickly. He looked very handsome in his picture. Most of what was on his profile was true as well, though Sherlock didn't agree that he "dates occasionally" since it seemed to him that all John did was go on out on dates. John was seeking love. True. Love is what John Watson wanted and precisely what Sherlock Holmes was going to give him.

He clicked the message button and stared at the empty box for a few minutes before writing _Hi_. He hit send and closed his laptop. He glanced at the clock. John would be home soon. Sherlock had an hour to put this out of his head and ensure that everything was normal by the time John got back. However, he was still smiling as he got up to go take a shower.


	2. John Meets Sharon

John was finishing up at work and thinking about his online profile. Ever since he first set it up, he couldn't help spending a lot of time imagining the possibilities, wondering if he had any new l messages and checking multiple times a day. He had talked to a few women -- had even met up a couple of them -- but it never went further than the first date.

He had been weary of signing up at first, but finding someone to be with had always been important, and trying to meet someone in person was getting difficult. Between going on cases, working at the surgery, and trying to catch up on sleep, it wasn't working well for his love life. So he gave in and signed up for online dating.

He packed up his things and locked the office, heading for the flat on foot. He was reluctant to admit that Sherlock had become more unpleasant with him since he had joined the dating site. Keeping it a secret wasn't an option with Sherlock, and John knew that he thought it was silly. He assumed that was the reason for Sherlock's taunts, so John just tried not to bring it up too much around him.

He picked up dinner on the way home and climbed up to the flat, looking around for Sherlock before calling out for him.

"I brought dinner, if you want," John added as he started serving his own. He wanted to check for messages but he decided to wait until he went to bed, hoping to avoid any teasing from Sherlock.

"Good, thanks," Sherlock said in what he was sure was his normal voice. He had to stay normal. "Work okay?" he added. "You look terrible. You look like you need sleep." He got out some plates and set them on the table.

"I always need more sleep," John said as he sat down with his plate.

Sherlock looked over at John. So far it seemed like he'd been doing a good job of being normal because John didn't look suspicious at all. "There were a couple possible cases," he said, sitting down. "I got in touch but haven't heard back -- we'll see what comes from them."

"Oh good," John said. Cases would definitely help Sherlock's mood. He hoped someone wrote back quickly with something interesting.

"You still into helping or are you over that?" Sherlock said. He wasn't quite sure what he meant by that, and then he worried it wasn't normal enough, and then he decided to let John answer because he wanted to know for sure.

John's brow furrowed. "Why would I be over helping with cases?"

"Don't ask me," Sherlock said. "I rarely understand any of the things you do." He took a bite of food. "I don't want you to be," he added more quietly. "I like when you help."

"Sherlock . . . of course, I'm still helping," John said, thrown off by the sudden quiet tone of Sherlock's voice. Was it a trick or was he really sad? John didn't like it. "Of course, I am."

"Good," Sherlock said. "Good." He fiddled with his food a little. "So what are your plans for this evening? Staying in or has a computer programme used its magical calculations to line up a perfect date for you?"

John sighed. "Well, I suppose we will see when I go to bed," he said.

"You're meeting them in bed now?" Sherlock asked. "Probably a good idea -- skip the boring date and just get straight to the sexual compatibility test." 

"That's where my laptop is," John said without indulging the other comments.

"John," Sherlock said quickly. He swallowed. "Just be normal, okay? Something doesn't . . . are you angry at me or something? I'm sorry for whatever I did."

"I am being normal," John said. "I'm just not giving in to your teasing me about this dating thing," he explained.

Sherlock looked up. He wasn't sure quite what to do -- the teasing was normal and he was supposed to be being normal. But for a second it flashed in his mind to just forget the idea and tell John now, tell him how they were meant to be together and he should just get over the gay thing. But he didn't.

Instead he said, "Sorry, I just . . . don't understand it all, I suppose."

"Well, that's okay," he said. "I know you don't but I want to meet someone . . ."

"But you've already met hundreds of people," Sherlock said. "Why are you so fascinated by the new?"

"I mean I want to meet someone romantically," John explained.

"Right," Sherlock said. "Okay, then. I'll butt out and leave you to it." He got up and took his plate to the sink. He clicked on the kettle and got out two mugs.

"Okay," John said, wondering how long that would last as he got up to wash the dishes.

Sherlock poured the tea and took his to his desk. He checked his email but there weren't any replies from the potential clients. He closed up and grabbed the book he'd been reading, taking it and his tea over to the sofa. He lay down and started reading.

When John finished the dishes he looked at Sherlock in his own world. "Well, I'm going to bed then," he said. He raised his hand in a wave and went up to his room. He got ready for bed and opened his laptop as he climbed under the covers.

He opened the dating site and smiled when he saw the notification for a new message. He opened it and was disappointed not to see an actual photo of the woman even though he did like the art piece she had chosen. He looked through her profile and liked what he saw so he wrote back.

_Hello. How are you? -J_

It was a bit boring, but they had to start somewhere so he sent it and sat back. He wondered if she was online right now.

Sherlock had stayed on the sofa for as long as he could after John went upstairs. But he knew John would be getting online, and he really, really wanted to get this started. So it wasn't long until Sherlock had grabbed his laptop, turned off the lights, and retreated into his own room. He made himself check his email again -- as if that had been the real reason he was online -- before logging into the dating site.

And there it was: a message from John.

It was all going to plan. He hit reply.

_I'm well. And you?_

John was watching for a reply and when it came he smiled softly. Perfect. It was always good to get started before he over thought everything. 

_I'm well. I'm glad you're online so we can chat. -J_

_Yes, it's good timing. I'm usually up quite late._

_My hours are irregular as well. What do you do? -J_

_I'm self-employed. What do you do?_

John wrinkled his nose and wondered what exactly that meant.

_What exactly do you do? I'm a doctor. -J_

Sherlock had a good think. He hadn't wanted to lie at all, but he couldn't exactly tell John he was a consulting detective. He decided to try changing the subject.

_Medicine is a noble career choice. You live in London then? Have you always?_

_I haven't always lived in London but I do now. I love it. What about you? -J_

_I love it as well. I don't always like all the people though. But there are plenty of places in the city where privacy can be found. What things do you do when you aren't saving lives?_

John smiled at the idea that he was saving lives and figured that, since he used to, he wouldn't correct her.

_My best friend is a detective and I help him solve cases. Well, he does the solving. I just do the recording. -J_

_Very exciting. How do you relax? Or don't you?_

_Reading is relaxing but I don't have much time for it. Not lately anyways. But it's okay. I like the things I'm doing so it doesn't feel like work. -J_

_It sounds like you're pretty happy. Is anything missing from your life?  
_

_Well, you've found me on a dating site so I think you can guess. I don't mean to be impolite, but that's what's missing. -J_

_I guess I just meant that it seems like you've got a pretty good life, and most of the people on here seem miserable. Your life seems pretty exciting, surely you must meet a lot of interesting people, don't you?_

_Well, we meet a lot of criminals. Then again, after knowing my best friend, it doesn't get more interesting than that. -J_

Sherlock smiled a little.

_I hope I can compete. Can I ask a few questions about you as a person, you know, to see if we're compatible?_

_Yes! That's a good idea. I would like to know more about you, too. -J_

_What's more important to you: friendship or love?_

_That's not a fair question. Both are important to me. What about you?-J_

_To me, I guess they're the same. I don't have many friends, I admit, but love and friendship go hand in hand for me. Do you want to be smarter than your partner? Or better looking? Or richer?_

_Smarter and better looking are just opinions. I want them to love me because I'm me. And money doesn't really matter because everything would be shared. Also, it's hard to compare men and women in looks. Girls are always better looking :) -J_

Sherlock frowned. Did John really think that? Sherlock had seen all the women John had been out with and objectively John was way better looking than most of them.

_I think you are very good looking in your profile picture. Is that really you?_

John smiled and felt his cheeks flush like a teenager's again.

_Thank you. Yes, that's really me. I wish I could see your picture, but I like the art piece you've chosen. -J_

_I like to keep a bit of mystery, I suppose, at least until I get to know a person. There's a lot of pricks out there. Perhaps once we get to know each other better. If you were in an argument and realised half way through that you were wrong, would you own up?_

_Yes, I think I would. I don't like arguing or playing games. If we can solve a problem then we should, no matter whose fault it is. Would you admit it? -J_

_Probably, but luckily I'm very rarely wrong. New question: how much would you change for a partner? Say we were dating and I asked you to grow a moustache, would you, even if you didn't like the way it looked?_

_I would have to politely decline. I wouldn't try to change you, or the person I loved I mean, so I would hope they wouldn't try to change me. I would try it though, just to see. We can compromise. -J_

God, that is so John Watson, Sherlock thought. For a second he found himself a little jealous -- it was like watching John flirting with someone else, because as far as John was concerned, he was flirting with someone else. Sherlock hadn't expected to feel jealous of himself.

_Fair enough. (Just so you know, I don't like moustaches and I think you're very handsome as you are.)_

_Well that's very good to know. It's a recent picture so you don't have to worry about any trickery. -J_

_Very brave. Or trusting. Or both. I hope we can chat again. So far, you've given all right answers. For me, I mean._

_I liked talking with you as well. I hope we can talk again soon. Good night. -J_

_Good night._

Sherlock read over the exchange again. He thought it had gone quite well for the first round. He logged off, cleared his history, and locked his computer, before closing it and setting it on his table. He lay down on the bed and closed his eyes, trying to imagine John upstairs in his room.

John closed the computer and put it on the other side of the bed, laying down and smiling wide. That had gone very well. He hoped they could keep talking. He curled up so he could try and sleep but his mind was just playing out different scenarios.

When John finally fell asleep he had dreams about meeting the woman he had been talking to but he didn't remember any of them. He woke up feeling light and happy. A small voice was telling him to calm down because this was an online thing after all and at the end of the day it could end up going nowhere. But the thought that it might go somewhere was enough to shut that little voice right up.


	3. Bright Moods

After a little while, Sherlock decided he needed to stop thinking about what was going on in his imaginary relationship with John and think about the real world. He glanced at the clock, it was too early for him to even bother trying to sleep so he got up and made himself another cup of tea, taking it back to his room to read for a while. Eventually he did go to sleep and didn't wake again until he heard John in the morning.

In the kitchen John moved around making tea and toast, trying to make his face a bit more neutral. He didn't want Sherlock asking too many questions and ruining his good mood from last night. When Sherlock came into the kitchen, John said a simple good morning and poured him a mug of tea.

"Morning," Sherlock replied. He wanted to say something about last night, but he reminded himself for his real reason for doing this: so John could see that they were perfect for each other. That was the goal, not just tricking John, which Sherlock had actually liked doing more than he'd expected. "You working today, then? What should I do if I've got a client for us -- should I ask them to come this evening?"

"I do have to work, yeah," John said as he sat down with his toast. "You can meet them and if it's something you want to do then you can text me and I'll meet you."

"All right," Sherlock said. "Are you likely to be free this evening, I guess is what I'm asking."

"Oh. I should be," John said. He thought about Sharon but he doubted they would be meeting so soon.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I'll see if anyone can meet us tonight and if not, maybe we could work on the blog or something." He took his tea over to his desk but then remembered his laptop was in his room, so he fiddled with some papers instead.

"Okay, yeah," John agreed. There wasn't really anything to work on since they hadn't had a case, but maybe they could send some replies and drum up new interest.

"If you want, I mean," Sherlock said. He tipped the rest of his tea into his mouth. "Have you showered yet? I think I'll shower before I start my day. I'll text you if I get any appointments set up." He set his mug in the sink and headed towards his bedroom.

"I'm leaving now so I'll talk to you soon," John said, raising his hand in a wave as he left. He walked to work, wondering if he should have written to Sharon this morning.

Sherlock moved to his bed and opened his laptop. There were a few client responses, but he didn't think he could focus until he'd gone to the dating site. So he did, rereading last night's conversation and then typing a quick note.

_I'm heading to work now and noticed that my mood was much brighter this morning thanks to our chat last night. I hope I hear from you later._

There. Now he could focus. He organised the three cases in terms of potential interest and complications and contacted the best one first with an invitation to the flat this evening.

When John got to work the lobby wasn't as packed as he had anticipated so he logged on to the dating site quickly. He smiled when he saw the message.

_Hello. I find that I am having a brighter morning as well. I'm at work now, but it was very nice hearing from you. I will be back in a bit. -J_

He logged off and started calling patients in, half of his mind on the dating site.

Sherlock did shower and get dressed and poured himself another cup of tea before he went back to check his email. The client would be there at six tonight. He sent John a quick text letting him know. Then he logged back on to the dating site and saw John's reply. He smiled and started to type, but then wondered if he shouldn't. If John was on the site at work -- that fact alone surprised Sherlock a bit -- would he be suspicious if a text from Sherlock and then a message from the woman arrived soon after? He decided to wait a bit.

He took his laptop to the desk and then sat down on the sofa. He was kind of enjoying this flirting with John, but was it the flirting or the trickery that he enjoyed most? He started thinking about their messages this morning. His mood was brighter because this plan meant soon John would see the truth. But why was John's mood brighter? Just because one random woman he didn't even know flirted with him the night before? Did that make his day so much better than just waking up at the flat with Sherlock?

This was confusing actually. John was flirting with Sherlock so that should be good. But John didn't know it was Sherlock, so that kind of made Sherlock feel bad. He finished his tea and decided not to think about it. It wouldn't last too much longer and then John would know what was going on and they could be happy together. That was all Sherlock wanted.

He took his mug to the sink and then moved to the desk. He decided to send one more message.

_I don't want to bother you at work, but I guess I just wanted to say that I've been thinking of you._

John didn't get on the site again until he was on his lunch break. He was happy that she was keeping in touch. He had a good feeling about this.

_It's not a bother. It's not so busy today. How is your day going? -J_

After he sent it he texted Sherlock to let him know he would be home well before six to meet with the client if he wanted.

Of course, Sherlock had the site open so read John's response immediately. But then his phone vibrated when John's text arrived. Nowhere in the text did John ask Sherlock how his day was going. He set his phone down and turned back to the computer.

_Bit boring so far, but should pick up later. Have you been thinking of any questions to ask me to find out if I'm right for you? I hope you don't mind -- I get the sense we're both quite reasonable people and know that computers can't tell us what we need to know. The question idea might seem stupid, but I guess I'd rather be sure we'd get along before we both go to too much trouble, if you know what I mean._

John smiled and considered her request.

_I would still like to know what sort of work you do. Do you like pets? Do you have siblings? What's your ideal date night? Your ideal weekend? These seem silly but I would really like to know more about you. -J_

_Those are good questions. I'm a researcher, so sometimes it feels like I'm always working because I've always got my eyes open for new information. My lifestyle's not ideal for pets at the moment, but I grew up with a dog who meant a lot to me._

Sherlock stared at the response. So far, nothing he'd written was untrue. But he wasn't sure he could answer the sibling one without revealing too much or telling a lie. He thought carefully.

_I have an older brother. We're not really friends but we know we could count on each other if something came up._

Now Sherlock thought about the date question. That one was trickiest because of his utter lack of experience.

_I hope this doesn't put you off me, but I don't really date much so I can't think of what an ideal one would be. I've seen other people go on a lot of bad dates, so I guess my ideal date would be doing anything, as long as I really liked the person I was with. And I suppose the ideal weekend would be the same._

That was definitely true -- whether he and John were sitting quietly in the same room or chasing down clues or even bickering in a taxi -- everything they did together he loved, just because they were together. He reread the whole reply.

_Those are good questions. I'm a researcher, so sometimes it feels like I'm always working because I've always got my eyes open for new information. My lifestyle's not ideal for pets at the moment, but I grew up with a dog who meant a lot to me. I have an older brother. We're not really friends but we know we could count on each other if something came up. I hope this doesn't put you off me, but I don't really date much so I can't think of what an ideal one would be. I've seen other people go on a lot of bad dates, so I guess my ideal date would be doing anything, as long as I really liked the person I was with. And I suppose the ideal weekend would be the same.  
Well, what do you think?_

He felt okay about it all, so he hit send. Then he stood and tidied up a bit, in preparation for John's return and the client's arrival.

John read over her response and thought about everything. She was more open now, and he liked that. He knew there could only be more to come and he was getting excited about it.

_I think that you sound amazing. I'm really glad that you messaged me, and I look forward to getting to know you even better. -J_

_I'm glad I messaged you as well. I'll be honest, I didn't come on this website to find some new perfect mate. I just want someone I enjoy talking to, someone who adds something to my life. I'm glad so far that we seem to be doing that for each other. I'd like to keep knowing you._

It was too close to John's arrival now to keep this going. Sherlock closed down the site, cleared his browser, and shut his laptop. He put the kettle on and sat down to wait for John.

Oh. John bit his lip and wondered if he was going to ruin everything by telling her the truth so early.

_I have to be honest with you, I am looking for love. I like talking with you a lot but if you just want to friends could you let me know so I can keep looking? I'm sorry if that sounds strange or very forward but I just wanted to be honest. -J_

He closed the site and finished his work before heading home.

Sherlock poured the tea as soon as he heard John downstairs. He wondered if John was going to be all cheerful and whether or not he should be happy or jealous about that. He moved to his desk but then got up and quickly moved to his chair. When John came in, Sherlock was smiling but then decided he shouldn't be so before John said anything, he said, "Tea's ready" and then stared down at his shoe.

"Thanks," John said, moving into the kitchen and pouring his mug. He moved into the sitting room and sank into his chair. He was thinking about the message, wanting to check it, to see if she replied. He was worried it was all messed up now.

Sherlock looked over at John. He didn't seem very cheerful at all. "What's up?" he asked. "Did something happen at work?"

John shook his head. If Sherlock found out he was upset about something he considered so silly, he would never hear the end of it. "What time is the client coming by?"

"Six," Sherlock said, glancing at his watch even though he knew precisely what time it was. "If you're not up to it, I can see him on my own." He didn't understand John's mood at all.

"No, it's okay. I'll get my notebook to write it up." He got up and found a pen and his notebook, flipping to a clean page. "What's the case, anyways?"

Sherlock explained to John about the man's missing files from work and how he believed there was an insider passing confidential client information elsewhere. He wanted the employee identified quickly but without much to do as to not worry current or future customers. Sherlock watched John listen and watched as he took in the information and jot down a few notes. John really was helpful on cases, even when all he did was listen.

The client came. He re-explained the situation, giving a few more details and handed Sherlock files on the people he thought were the most likely subjects. John took more notes, but Sherlock's mind was already going. When the guy left, Sherlock said, "Should we start now . . . or do you have plans? I'm sorry -- I didn't mean to make any assumptions." He took the folders to his desk and sat down.

"I don't have plans but I'm tired. I'm just going to have some dinner and go to bed." John knew he was being silly but he couldn't help it. His mood was ruined.

Sherlock looked up at John. "I -- okay, whatever. If I can be of any help, let me know, but I won't hassle you," he said. He opened his laptop and started his research.

"Okay," John said. He heated up his dinner and ate standing in the kitchen. When he finished he went up to bed, promising Sherlock that he would start working first thing tomorrow since he was off work.

The minute John's bedroom door shut, Sherlock logged onto the website. He read over John's message. That's what Sherlock wanted too, but John was forgetting that friendship was a part of love. How could he forget that when it was happening in this flat all the time? He quickly composed a reply.

_I appreciate your honesty. I didn't mean to imply I wasn't interested in more, in fact, I guess I was trying to say the exact opposite. I'm not always good at these things. I want to be more than friends, but I also have to be friends. I don't know if that makes sense, but it's how I feel. I also feel like we are becoming friends now. I hope all this is all right with you._

So that's why John was so grumpy -- he thought Sharon wasn't interested. God, Sherlock really wasn't very good at this. He'd have to try to be a little more upfront but, he reminded himself, he still had to be himself. That was the whole point -- that John had to see that it was Sherlock who had everything he was looking for in a mate.

John knew he shouldn't check the site before bed but he couldn't help it. He opened his laptop and logged on. For a few seconds he just stared at the notification. Then he clicked it and read the message. He felt a flood of relief.

_I'm sorry I jumped the gun like that. I know being friends first is important but the way you said it -- I just thought you were brushing me off. This is all right. I'm sorry again. I hope I didn't ruin everything. -J_

He sent the message and lay down again.

Sherlock had the dating site window on even though he was convincing himself he was really focused on his work. The minute John's message came up, he read it and had a good think. In their normal interactions, Sherlock tended to take the lead and John seemed good with that, so perhaps he needed that to show more with this woman.

_Stop saying you're sorry. I like you -- I mean, everything I know about you, I like so why would a misunderstanding make me change my mind? Let's not get hung up on a misunderstanding. Did you have a good day at work? Did you think of any more questions? I thought of one, but it's kind of about sex so I don't know if I should ask._

John slept funny all night, tossing and turning and having odd dreams that he didn't remember when he woke up in the morning. He sat up and stretched, glancing at the computer on the pillow next to him. He went to the bathroom first and freshened up, wanting to pretend he had some self control. When he climbed into bed again he opened the dating site and read the reply excitedly.

_Okay. I'm putting it out of my mind right now. Work was okay. It was a bit slow and then I came home and we had a client here. I am going to start writing up the case now. You can ask me whatever you like, don't be shy :) -J_

Since no reply from John had come last night, Sherlock checked the site as soon as he woke up, even though he really, really needed the toilet and a cup of tea.

_Okay, here goes. I'm just going to be honest: I am not prudish in any way, and I do think sex is an important part of a relationship. Obviously, when we first meet, neither of us should feel any obligation to do anything, so my question isn't about the immediate. I guess I'm just curious if you are also open-minded about sex. I think some people come to these sites specifically to avoid intimacy, and I guess I just wondered where you stood on this topic. I know it's hard to talk about -- I don't expect you to admit to being either uptight or a sex maniac -- but I do think it's a key point of compatibility._

He hit send and rushed to the bathroom. He stopped to put the kettle on and almost called for John, but he only knew John was awake because of the message, so he poured his tea and went back into room.

When a reply came almost at once John grinned, liking the thought that she was up and online, that they could chat at the moment, especially about something like this. He read the message quickly and then again more slowly, carefully. What did she mean by open minded? Having sex on the first date or something more kinky? He started his reply carefully.

_I think that intimacy is a very important part of a relationship, even if it doesn't come in the form of sex. Don't misunderstand me; of course I would like that to be a part of the relationship as well but my open mindedness about it depends on my partner and the trust and comfort we can provide for each other. -J_

Hoping that was a good answer he sent the message and stood, taking the computer and his notes downstairs. He couldn't hide in his room all day, but he would leave the site up to keep replying with her as long as she was online.  He shouted his good morning to Sherlock, grabbed his mug of tea, and sat in his chair to start working.

Sherlock read the message and started his reply, but then he heard John's shout. If John was up, Sherlock would need to get up. He'd have to be careful about keeping his laptop hidden from John's view. He made sure the sound was muted and then typed up his reply.

_That sounds good. I hope that didn't come off as perverted, but it's just difficult knowing how to address this subject in person. I don't think I'm always very good at letting people know when I'm interested. I'm glad we could at least talk a bit about it now. Did you think of any other questions?_

He didn't hit send, but instead stood up, leaving his mug on the bedside cabinet and headed towards his bedroom door. He had his laptop in his hand, partly open, with his thumb resting on the enter button. He stepped out and said good morning to John, before hitting send as he walked. He placed the laptop down on the desk, closing the top completely and then moved to make a fresh cup of tea. "Need a top up?" he asked as he turned to face John.

"No, I just poured it," he smiled, lifting his mug a bit to show him. When he saw the notification, he sat up a bit more and leaned close to read it.

_I agree that it can be awkward in person. I am glad we got it all cleared up. Do you think you'd like to meet one day? No pressure or anything. I was just wondering. How was your day at work yesterday? Are you working today? What kind of music do you like? Do you play music? -J_

Sherlock poured his tea and moved to his desk. He positioned his laptop carefully and opened it up. He saw the notification but immediately went to email instead. Last night's client had sent another document, which Sherlock opened and skimmed and then forwarded to John. "Just sent you something from the client," he muttered and then went back to the dating site window.

_Work yesterday was fine. I'll be researching most of today -- if I disappear, I'll do my best to get back as soon as I can. I quite like music, mostly classical, although I know people think that's boring. I grew up playing it -- violin and a little piano -- so I appreciate its complexity as well as its beauty. I think I would like to meet you. Do you think we're ready?_

He hit send and tried to smoothly shift back to the other window to more closely read the client's file. He was grateful he could read faster than John. Nothing of much relevance was there, so he looked up and said, "Should we divide up the four potential leaks and we can each work on two?"

John was reading the reply when he realised Sherlock was also talking. "Yes, that works," he said as he opened a reply box.

_My best friend plays the violin. I enjoy it. Maybe one day you can play it for me. And piano as well? I might be too boring for you! I don't play any instruments. I know we haven't been talking for very long but I think we are ready to meet. Maybe soon. What do you think? -J_

Sherlock stood up and carried two of the folders over to John. "You take the men, I'll take the women," he said and returned to his desk. He opened one of the folders and then read John's reply.

_But you still haven't seen what I look like. What if you aren't attracted to me? I can honestly say that I don't care about appearance if I'm genuinely interested in the person, but of course I know what you look like and already know that I fancy you. How important are physical features to you?_

"Sounds good. I'll take notes and we can go over them after." John set aside the computer and started looking over the files, glancing at the computer for a reply. And then he saw it and he set the file aside.

_If I was meeting you in public and I had never spoken to you, I would say looks were rather important. But now that we've talked first I don't think it'll matter as much. I'm sure that you are an attractive woman. -J_

Sherlock frowned and then tried to make his face neutral before John noticed.

_But what if I'm not what you expect? It would be awkward if you were turned off but felt you couldn't say._

John went back to the notes but it was hard to focus. He saw the notification and stopped again.

_Even if you're not what I am picturing I think it'll be okay. I like you. I like talking with you and I would like to know you better. -J_

_What about if I'm ginger or a dwarf or have tattoos all over my face? Is there anything you can think of that would totally put you off me?_

_I know you're not a ginger because you told me that you're dark haired. And I know you're not a dwarf because you told me you're tall. I don't know how to answer this. -J_

_All right, you got me. I just don't want to let you down. I've never met someone that I've connected so well with and I don't want to do anything that'll ruin it._

_I wish I could tell you not to worry. I am nervous as well because I am older and short and I don't want to scare you off. -J_

_Don't worry. I already think you're handsome but in truth, I don't care about appearances. I don't care about any physical details. I care about the connection. Do you still think we should meet?_

_I would really like to. When were you thinking? -J_

_This weekend? It would give us a few days to keep talking and be sure. Friday evening?_

_That sounds good. You can pick the place, I can meet you wherever you like. -J_

John sat up a bit more and didn't bother with the notes for a moment. It was happening. He didn't want to get his hopes up but they were connecting so well and he felt like he knew this woman already. He was eager to meet her.

_All right. Look, I've get to head out for a bit so I'll think about a good place and be back in touch soon. As always, I've enjoyed talking to you. I hope the rest of your day goes well._

_Okay. I will talk to you soon. -J_

John sighed and closed the window, setting the computer aside and focusing on the notes again, not wanting to have nothing done when Sherlock asked what he'd found.

"Have you found anything?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm still working," John said, looking over at him. "You?"

"Nothing yet," Sherlock said. He worked for a little while longer -- eliminating one of the women for sure. Then he got up, grabbed his mug and John's, and moved to make more tea.

John felt a little guilty so he focused harder, wanting to find something good.

Sherlock set John's mug down next to him and returned to his desk. They worked for a few more hours. It soon became clear precisely who was responsible, so that afternoon they went to see Lestrade to see if they could find anything else about the woman -- whether it was about greed or part of a bigger crime.

John had felt a bit useless at the end of it all since the one responsible was in Sherlock's pile and John had been so distracted while looking through his own. So he offered to treat Sherlock to dinner and then went home and quickly checked the site. There wasn't a new message yet, and he tried not to let it bother him. They had been talking a lot so a little break was okay.

"Do you want anything specific for dinner when I come home tomorrow?" John asked Sherlock.

"I'm pretty sure you know the answer to that question," Sherlock said. "I'll refuse to eat whatever you put in front of me and then you can harass me and then I'll reluctantly do as you tell me." He glanced up and smiled at him. It had been good spending the day together, and he'd really enjoyed it.

John smiled. "I'll get whatever I want then. I think I'll go work in my room," he said.

Sherlock made himself a cup of tea and moved over to his desk. This time he did do some work without checking the dating site first, because he was eager to get back in touch with the client. Once he was done, he took his laptop into his bedroom and checked the dating site. John hadn't sent anything since before they'd left, and Sherlock wondered if he was online right now. He thought he'd try a message just in case.

_How was your day?_

John logged on and checked his blog first before going to check the dating site. He smiled happily.

_It was good. We just came back from finishing a case so I will be typing that up tonight. I'll be online for a little bit. How was your day? -J_

_Busy but good. Sounds like your day was pretty exciting._

_It was exciting. I like working the cases because it's always something interesting. -J_

_And you do this work with your best friend? That sounds fun._

_Yes, it's a lot of fun. Tell me about your day. -J_

Sherlock thought about his day. It was a lot of fun and John knew it was fun. John shouldn't be telling an imaginary person about it, he should be down here with Sherlock, talking and then sitting next to each other on the sofa and maybe sleeping in the same bed. It was so obvious.

_I spent time researching on the web and then I went out and talked to a few people. It sounds like you really like having a partner to work with._

John thought about Sherlock and smiled.

_He's my best friend so it's always a good time. He's really smart and very good at cases so I always have a lot to write about. He's amazing really. I'm glad that you had a good day as well. Sounds like you were busy too. I was thinking about us meeting, I'm excited. -J_

Sherlock smiled. He was John's best friend and they did always have a good time. All their time together was a good time. Sherlock felt that and now he knew John did as well.

_I'm excited to see you as well. I'm still a little nervous, but I never expected this connection. I hope it's okay that I said that, because it is true._

John smiled wide.

_It's okay you said it because it's true. I feel the same way. I never thought we would connect so well, especially so quickly. -J_

_It's a good sign, right? Regardless of what we look like when we meet, this connection will be what matters to me._

_Me too. I feel the same way. -J_

John couldn't help grinning. He was so happy about this, about how this was working out.

There, Sherlock thought, John just said it: what a person looks like (including what's underneath their clothes) is not as important as their connection. He wanted to go up to John's room right now and shout it at him: See? We're perfect for each other and you just admitted it! But he didn't do that, he could wait until Friday night.

_I think I'm going to try to get some sleep now. It won't be long until Friday and I'm genuinely looking forward to it. xx_

He picked up his laptop and made his way into his room, grinning like a teenager in love.

John fell over at the little kisses and couldn't stop grinning. He composed himself a bit before writing back.

_Have an excellent night. Can't wait to see you! -J_

John shut the computer and got into bed properly, hoping for the first time the surgery would be busy so the day would fly by.


	4. Friday

On Friday morning, Sherlock heard John get up for work, but stayed in his room until he heard John leave. He was almost giddy with excitement, which embarrassed him a bit, but he knew he'd be unable to hide it from John. Today would be the last day of hiding. Tonight, he'd meet John at the restaurant, there'd be a bit of confusion, and then Sherlock would see that moment of understanding on John's face. Sherlock loved seeing that moment during cases, and tonight's moment would be even better because it would be the beginning of them being together as they should be.

Once John had gone, Sherlock thought about getting up, but decided to stay in bed a little longer, just thinking about tonight.

The surgery was slower than John would have liked, but he sent a quick hello message and tried to focus on his work. He was thinking about tonight. He was excited. He knew they hadn't been chatting a long time, but every day the conversations got more and more in depth and more and more enjoyable, and he felt he knew her well. He was looking forward to knowing her in person.

Eventually Sherlock sat up to start the day. But then he saw his laptop and opened it, just to see if Sharon had received a message. She had. He sent a quick _Looking forward to tonight_ and then finally got up, setting his laptop on his desk and making himself a cup of tea. As he drank it, he checked his email. The client he'd contacted after finishing the last case hadn't responded yet, which normally would have annoyed Sherlock, but today it didn't. He'd give the guy until Monday before giving up. He didn't want to have to think about anyone except John this weekend.

Once he was done with his tea, he got up, moving to the kitchen to wash his mug, before going into shower. He looked through his wardrobe, though he already knew what he'd be wearing tonight. He threw on some other clothes and stood before his mirror. He wondered if he should get a haircut. Normally he just had Mrs Hudson give him a trim, but he knew if he went downstairs now, she'd have too many questions about his request, so he got his coat and headed out to a proper barber, deciding to treat himself to a shave as well. Then he'd come home, tidy the flat, and change his bedsheets (just in case). He wanted everything to be perfect for tonight.

Halfway through the day, the surgery was too slow and John explained to Sarah about the date. She let him leave early and John kissed her cheek before hurrying out of the surgery and getting a cab home so he could get there faster.

Sherlock was nowhere to be found so John hopped into the shower, went up to get dressed, and then headed downstairs again. He wanted to double check the restaurant's location -- he didn't want to take any chances about anything going wrong -- so he opened Sherlock's computer and in his haste, it took a few seconds to realise he was looking at the dating site.

Was Sherlock checking up on John's page? No, this was a proper page. Did Sherlock have a page too? He scrolled to look at the photo but it was art. The same art piece as Sharon. And then he saw the name. Her name. He was having a hard time breathing. He didn't understand. He scrolled through more of the page and saw the rest of the information. It was the same. He clicked on the messages and saw them all.

Sherlock was Sharon Ford.

John stood and thought about the date. Was Sherlock going to just show up and laugh? Had he done it as some kind of joke? To tease John about the stock he put in dating? To humiliate him? That's how he felt. He also felt angry.

He went up to his room and pulled out his duffel bag, tossing clothes into it haphazardly. He was leaving. This was too much. As he packed his computer, he opened the dating site.

_I will never forgive you, Sherlock._

He sent the message and closed the computer, putting it into the bag and leaving the flat. He didn't know where he was going yet but he couldn't stay here. Not with Sherlock, not after what he'd done.


	5. It All Goes Wrong

On the way back to the flat, Sherlock passed by some flowers at a market and considered buying some. He knew it was unbelievably sappy and romantic -- something he'd have teased John about doing for a woman -- but he didn't care. He felt unbelievably sappy and romantic. But he realised John might notice them when he got home from work, and there'd be no way Sherlock would be able to explain their presence in the flat. Maybe tomorrow they could come back and Sherlock would buy them for John. He'd do anything if it made John happy.

He let himself into the flat and considered getting ready but then realised that was stupid. He knew he'd need to appear as usual when John got home and stay normal until John left. Then Sherlock could get dressed and head out, beating John to the restaurant. He tidied up the flat a bit and then moved to his room. He opened the window to let in a little fresh air and then stripped the bed, putting on clean sheets. He glanced in the mirror again -- the haircut and shave looked good. He realised he was smiling.

He made himself another cup of tea and wondered when John would get home. He moved to his laptop and saw the notification of a message. He felt stupidly excited again. He opened it up.

For a moment, Sherlock couldn't breathe.

That's not how this was supposed to happen. That's not how John was supposed to find out and that's not how John was supposed to react. He grabbed for his phone but there were no texts. How had this happened? He sent John a quick message.

_Are you at work? SH_

John had just walked into the room he booked at the hotel and dropped his bag on the bed, still pacing. He couldn't sit still. He was so angry and hurt. How could Sherlock do this to him? What had he been thinking? When he saw the text, he tossed the phone away and didn't reply.

Sherlock was breathing again, but his stomach was aching as he stared at his phone, waiting for John's reply. It didn't come. He stood up and moved to the window. Was John on his way home this early? Had he already come home? Sherlock called John's name. He looked up at John's bedroom door which was closed. He walked up to it.

"John?" he called again, trying not to sound as upset as he was. He knocked softly. He already knew that the silence meant John wasn't in there. He opened the door. He walked over to John's wardrobe, opening it up. John's bag was gone and so were some of his clothes. Sherlock's heart stopped. He sat down on John's bed and rang John's phone but it went to voicemail. He couldn't speak, though -- he wasn't even entirely sure he was breathing.

Why was John acting like this? They were perfect for each other. Sherlock knew it and now John did too. Why did John say he wouldn't forgive Sherlock? Forgive him for what? He took a few deep breaths and pushed John's number again. When it went to voicemail, he opened his mouth but no words came out. It seemed like the silence lasted forever but no words would come. Finally, he said, "John, come home." He lay down on John's bed. None of this made sense. He'd tried so hard and none of this made sense.

John listened to the voicemail and tried to imagine Sherlock at the flat. Did he realise what had happened? Did he realise what he had done? John knew if he called him now he was going to lose it -- he was too angry to talk to him right now. He knew he would have to explain at some point. Sherlock probably thought it was funny and that John was over reacting. The thought made John even angrier. No, he couldn't talk to Sherlock right now.

Sherlock was squeezing his phone. He looked at it, as if perhaps it'd rung but he hadn't noticed, but obviously nothing was there. He opened a text.

_I know you are angry. Please don't be. Come home. SH_

It wouldn't be enough for John. Even though Sherlock didn't know what was going on in John's head right now, he knew this text wouldn't be enough, but it was all he could offer because it's all he could think of. He just wanted John to come home.

John read the message and felt his blood pressure rising again. He knew he couldn't talk to Sherlock. He didn't want to hear his voice, hear him laugh at John, or dismiss his anger.

 _I am angry and I am not coming home. How dare you make me believe I had met someone? Did you get your laugh? Did you enjoy yourself? That was a selfish, horrible thing to do. -JW_

He sent the message before he could regret it. He turned on the news for a distraction.

Sherlock read the message. John was misunderstanding everything.

_You did meet someone, John. You met me. Don't you see? SH_

_You tricked me. That's what I see. - JW_

Sherlock knew it had been a bit of a trick, he'd known that when he'd started. But John had seen him use tricks to solve cases, that's all this had been. Why couldn't he see that now?  
  
_Everything I said was true. Except one thing. One unimportant thing, John. Everything else was true. Do you understand now? SH_

_One unimportant thing? There was no woman! It was you! I thought I was falling in love with a woman and it was you! Don't you understand? - JW_

Oh my god, John Watson is frustrating, Sherlock thought.

_I do understand, John. Now it's your turn to understand. SH_

He hit send and got up and went back down to the sitting room and put on the kettle. John would figure it out and then he'd come home.

John read the message and tossed the phone away from him, lying down with a hard huff of air. What was he supposed to understand? That Sherlock had tricked him? That he had been lied to?

He turned on his side and closed his eyes, letting his mind settle as he focused on his breathing. He drifted off and had strange dreams, waking up when it was dark out. He was still irritable. He stood and went out to find something to eat. He didn't want to think about this anymore right now.


	6. John Can't See, Sherlock Can't Understand

Sherlock had made two cups of tea, but two hours later, John's was still sitting on the table. He stood up from his chair, set his cup next to John's, and moved into his bedroom. He pulled the curtains shut so the room went dark, stripped himself of his clothes and got into bed. He closed his eyes but everything was still there in his mind. He couldn't make it go away and he couldn't make sense of any of it. He didn't even know where John was -- how could that be? He always knew where John was, he was always able to call up an image of John in this moment, so that it felt like they were together even when they were apart. Where was John? Why hadn't he come home?

Sherlock wanted to call him. Wanted to make him come home. This was so stupid. John was being stupid. Was it just because of the gay thing? Was he just pouting over that? Why couldn't he see that that didn't matter? Why couldn't he just be more logical?

John had to admit that it was very odd being alone. He ate in the silence of his room and then tried to watch the news, but it only reminded him of Sherlock, so he shut it off and stayed in the silence again. He started thinking about the dating site again.

Why would Sherlock do something like that? Was it an experiment? Was he trying to teach John a lesson? He turned on his belly and buried his face into the pillow. It didn't make any sense. Why would he do something cruel like that? Unless there was another reason.

Had that been Sherlock's way of confessing something, something he was feeling? No. Sherlock wasn't interested in feelings. He always made fun of John for his romantic notion. John turned onto his back again and shook his head. It couldn't be possible that Sherlock felt something for John. Could it? Is that what he had wanted John to understand?

If that was the case, then he should have just talked to John. The way he did it, the things he did . . . this wasn't good. Sherlock needed to learn that he couldn't play with people like that.

Sherlock must have fallen asleep because when he woke up and walked out of his bedroom, the entire flat was dark. "John?" he called, just in case John had come back. Of course there was no answer, Sherlock knew he wouldn't have slept through John's coming home. He went to the toilet and then into the kitchen to put the kettle on. He took a cup of tea to his desk and opened his laptop. He didn't bother going to the dating site. He checked his email and the second client had responded, but Sherlock couldn't face replying because he didn't know when John would be back.

And then he realised that, in truth, he didn't know _if_ John would be back. If John really was unwilling to acknowledge their compatibility, would he even want to live or work with Sherlock anymore? This thought made Sherlock's heart start to break so he quickly tried to change his sadness to anger. How could John be so stubborn to even consider throwing away everything they had, just because they were both men. I'm not gay, I'm not gay -- the memories of John saying that were starting to make Sherlock angry now, keeping him sufficiently distracted from his worry and heartbreak.

Sherlock took his mug and lay down on the sofa to think. What was John's problem? He never judged Harry for her sexual preference. Why would he judge himself? Sherlock didn't care about labels. Feelings were confusing enough -- he wasn't bothered by the shape of the person he had them for. And he definitely knew he had them for John.

Why did John have to be so hung up on this? Or maybe it wasn't about gender at all . . . was it just that he didn't fancy Sherlock? Maybe that's why he'd let Sherlock's hints fly over his head, maybe John was just trying to avoid having "I don't find you attractive." Well, that was a bit rude. What was wrong with Sherlock? He thought he looked okay -- did John want him to change his hair or dress differently or something?

He put his mug on the table and rolled over. This was stupid. He was getting himself all worked up over theories, theories for which he didn't really have any evidence. In truth, the mystery of what was going on in John Watson's head was one Sherlock would not be able to solve on his own. He needed John's help. He needed John to tell him why this had all gone so horribly wrong. He stared at the back of the sofa until his eyes started to water. He closed them and eventually fell back to sleep.

The thought of Sherlock's feelings and John's own feelings and what all of this meant had kept John up through the night. He had sat at the desk, going over the conversations they had had on the site together, ignoring the fact that it was a fake woman and pretending it was Sherlock all along (since, he know knew, it had been). John imagined Sherlock's face and he imagined Sherlock checking the site for messages and eagerly writing back. What if all of it had been true? John had really believed he'd fallen for this woman. And this woman was Sherlock.

They needed to talk. Sherlock needed to know this was not okay, but John was starting to realise that Sherlock might not actually know why. He took a deep breath and found his phone between the pillows on the bed. 

_We need to talk. -JW_

The phone's noise woke Sherlock. The light was coming in through the sitting room windows, it was morning. And John still wasn't home. He grabbed at his phone. The message gave him a feeling of relief and a little bit of dread.

_Come home. SH_

_No. I don't want to yet. Meet me at the park in twenty minutes. -JW_

John sent the message and didn't wait for a reply before leaving for the park. He didn't know exactly what he was going to say yet, but he tried to plan something out as he walked. 


	7. They Talk

Sherlock had wanted to John to come home; he didn't want to meet in the park. But he hadn't had any time to argue. He pulled himself from the sofa and rushed into the bathroom to shower. He got dressed and ran to the park. He sat down on the bench and tried to clear his mind while he waited for John.

John arrived and watched Sherlock for a moment before approaching and sitting on the same bench, a bit away from him. For a long while he didn't say anything at all. He took a deep breath. "You hurt me."

That was not what Sherlock was expecting John to say. Which meant he had no idea what to say. Hurt? Why would John be hurt? However, he knew he had to say something and what he knew he should probably say was sorry. "I apologise," he said. "Will you come home now?"

"No, because you don't know why," John said. 

"Well, perhaps I don't," Sherlock said. "I didn't mean to hurt you, so I am sorry for that. That's true." He swallowed. He didn't look over at John, but he did notice he wasn't carrying his bag when he walked up. "Will you forgive me?"

"I can't until you realise what you did. You don't know what you're apologising for." 

"Just tell me," Sherlock said.

John gave him a hard look. Why should he explain? But the look on Sherlock's face . . . he was sad. And John knew that, with these kinds of things, he was completely clueless. "You lied to me, Sherlock," he said and shook his head, standing up again. He needed to go before he got overwhelmed again.

"I had to lie to make you see . . ." Sherlock said. "I . . . I am sorry, John." He fiddled with the corner of his coat. "I just . . . I didn't know how to make you see . . ."

"You talk to me, Sherlock. That's how . . . that's how it's always been with us. We talk," John said. "I have to go." He turned and walked away from the bench, stuffing his hands into his pockets. This was hard. He hated it. 

Sherlock watched John get up. He wanted to grab his arm, stop him, make him come home. But he couldn't. That wasn't what their friendship was about. Yes, sometimes Sherlock bossed John and a few times he'd even tricked John. But those were mostly little, petty things, and certainly never about feelings. He couldn't trick John into loving him or into saying he loved him. Sherlock had made a mistake. He could see that now. But what he couldn't see is how to fix it. He got up and starting walking in the opposite direction.

John walked back to the hotel and curled up under the covers, burying his face into the pillow and trying to breath normally. He hated being away from Sherlock but after what happened . . . could they ever go back to being normal?

Sherlock went back up to the flat. He tried to think. Sherlock trusted John. He would trust him with his life. John should trust Sherlock with his, because Sherlock would do anything for John. He'd never felt this connection with another person -- nothing in this world was more important than John. Sherlock had messed that up. He had to make it right.

He saw John's cup still on the table. He tipped the cold tea away, washed the mug and put it back on the table. It'd stay there until John returned. Sherlock would have to figure this out.


	8. Work And Regret

John turned the telly on for a distraction, which didn't help. It didn't help him the next day either: he spent most of his time thinking about Sherlock.

So Sherlock had feelings for him. Instead of telling him, he thought he had to be so elaborate and use trickery and deceit. Why hadn't he just talked to John? Why lie and make up a whole other person? He didn't like that part. He didn't know what to do.

At the flat, Sherlock carried his tea to his desk. He had no new emails but he saw the one from the client. She could come Monday morning. Sherlock didn't know quite what to do. He needed John but didn't know if he'd come. Maybe John would never want to work with him again. He confirmed the appointment and then opened a text to John.

_A client is coming to the flat tomorrow at 10am. I would appreciate your attendance. I understand if you are unable to come. SH_

When John read the message, he wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't like the formality of Sherlock's tone. Finally, he responded.

_I'll be there. -JW_

Sherlock felt pleased that John was willing to come.

_Appreciated. If there are changes, I will notify you. SH_

He sent it and then sent one more.

_PS I wish you were here. SH_

_See you tomorrow. - JW_

John felt bad he too was being formal, but this was hard enough to deal with, Sherlock's being sweet now only made it more difficult. God, John really hated being apart.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to do with himself now. He topped up his tea and went over to the sofa, flipping on the television. Everything on it was stupid and boring but in truth all he really wanted to do was sleep the time away. It was like nothing really mattered because John wasn't here.

Sherlock managed to fall asleep for a bit, but it wasn't long enough. He turned on the kettle and then went into his room to put his pajamas on. He poured a cup of tea, took a couple sleeping pills and made a little bed for himself on the sofa. He flipped through the channels and tried to go back to sleep again.

When he work up, it was six. He got up and got dressed. He watched the clock closely and began boiling and reboiling the kettle much too early.

When the alarm woke John Monday morning, he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed, leaving his bag behind, as he took a taxi to the flat, arriving fifteen minutes before the client was supposed to.

"Hello," he said as he walked in the flat.

"Hello," Sherlock said, trying not to seem too eager. He brought John a cup of tea and then handed him some papers. "Here's what I know about the client," he said. "Do you want to use my laptop or did you bring yours?"

"I didn't bring anything," John admitted. "I can just jot things down, it's okay," he added as he sat down to read through the file.

Sherlock pulled a notebook out of his desk and passed it to John. "Just in case," he said. He moved over to his desk. It didn't feel right, it was awkward. But at least John was here. Luckily the client arrived pretty quickly. They all sat down and she started talking.

John wrote his notes and listened carefully, constantly glancing at Sherlock but trying really hard not to. He wanted things to be like before. Maybe they should talk again after she left . . . but, in truth, he still didn't know what he wanted to say.

The case didn't seem difficult, but Sherlock was grateful for it. They got all the information they could and then she took off. "Any initial thoughts?" Sherlock asked once he'd seen her out.

"She seems a bit fishy herself," John said, looking at his notes. "I think it might be an affair or something . . ."

"Good insight," Sherlock said. "Um, do you want another cup of tea or are you taking off straight away?"

John licked his lips awkwardly. "Um, I'll have one more," he said. He stood to get it himself, moving into the kitchen.

Sherlock focused on his breathing. It was so good John being back home. "Um, I've not gone into your room -- I don't know if you need to take anything else or if you want to take something from the kitchen -- whatever you need." He was trying so hard to sound . . . well to sound anything but desperate for John to just come home, which is what he felt inside.

"I -- no, I have my stuff and the hotel has . . . it's okay, I'm fine," John stammered. He regretted staying for another cup. He wasn't ready to talk -- he felt an urge to reassure Sherlock he'd come home, but in all honesty, he wasn't sure that was best.

So John was at a hotel. Sherlock didn't like the idea, but at least he had an image he could use when he needed to call up John in his mind. "All right," Sherlock said. "I just didn't want you to feel . . . look, would you prefer if I go stay with my brother and you can take the flat? This is your home, too. I'm the one who made the mistake . . . you shouldn't have to be the one who leaves."

John shook his head, still standing in the kitchen. "I don't like being away --" he said but then stopped. "I feel like I should be though." He looked down at his untouched mug of tea. "I should go . . ."

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I really do appreciate your coming to help. You do help, John . . ." He moved John's mug to the sink. "I'll start investigating this case . . . if you need anything . . . well, just let me know." He started washing the mugs because he didn't know what else to do.

For one second John wanted to shout at Sherlock again. He knew what the problem was, why was he acting like nothing was wrong here? He sighed softly and turned to go, taking his notes and his jacket and leaving the flat. When he got back to his own room at the hotel, he logged onto the dating site and deleted his profile. 

Sherlock did try to work after John left. He tried hard to concentrate, even though it was difficult. He wondered about John at the hotel. He wondered if John would ever forgive him, if John would ever come home. It was so good seeing him this morning, seeing him in the flat. Sherlock would never take that granted again. He would never trick him again.

By the time it started to get dark, he decided to stop for the night. He made himself some toast and tried to watch television, but he couldn't settle. Finally he went back to the computer and opened a new email to John.

 _I have attached my notes. Please let me know if you see any errors or if you've had any other ideas._  
_On a personal note, please know that I do not want to impose on you. I am trying to be respectful of whatever you need. I was afraid to say anything when you were here, as I did not want you to think I was trying a trick. However, I need to tell you something, John. I want you to come back and make this a home again. You are my best friend and I miss you terribly._  
_SH_

Sherlock stared at the message for a long time. He was afraid John would see it as pressure, but he was also afraid that if he didn't say these things, he wouldn't be able to get through the night. He hit send.

John heard the notification sound on his phone and pulled it close to see what it was. It was an email from Sherlock. When he saw the subject line was about notes attached, he ditched the phone and opened the laptop so he could look over them properly. But then he was caught into the next part of the email and he covered his face with his hands, sighing loudly. 

 _I think we both know that you haven't made any mistakes on these notes, but I will download and check them anyway._  
_I do want to come home, Sherlock. I hate being away and I hate not seeing you all the time but I am still hurt and angry and I don't know how to come back. Things can't go back to normal, and I think you know that too. Not just because of the lie, but because of the feelings involved now. I have put up with your tricks and experiments for a long time -- and if I'm honest, I haven't ever really minded. But this, Sherlock -- this was too personal. It was different. It was painful. I don't know how to come back home now. I'm sorry._  
_JW_

John sent the message and then downloaded the notes, looking over them like he promised we would. 

Sherlock read John's reply. Well, at least he'd got that part right -- the trick was too different, it was too personal. Why hadn't he realised that at the start? The rest of the email, though, confused him. John wanted to come back: good. He didn't know how to: bad. There are feelings involved now . . . was that good or bad? Did John mean Sherlock's feelings or his own feelings or both? Had John figured out what Sherlock had been trying to show him? And did that even matter now that Sherlock had hurt him, now that John was gone?

Sherlock opened one more email.

 _I promise I will not bother you anymore tonight, John, but as you are doing a lot of thinking over there, I'd like to add one more thought into the mix. I have learned so much from you since we've been together. I have become a better man. But I am still flawed, and my behaviour over the last week has proven that. I cannot guarantee that I will stop acting inappropriately when it comes to feelings, I wish I could but I am trying to be honest. I can't guarantee I will always act right. But I can guarantee that I understand now why this error in judgment was different, I can understand why this hurt you. Please believe me when I say this was the exact opposite of my intent -- my ignorance in these matters is my only, admittedly feeble, excuse. I understand I am the cause of your pain and your absence, which is now causing me pain. I understand and I apologise._  
_At the moment, I feel it would be unwise to trust any of my instincts as my aforementioned ignorance coupled with my intense desperation for your return may lead to further poor decisions. So I shall not continue to harass you. I will keep you up to date on the case, but you are in control regarding the personal side of things. I shall wait to hear from you about that._  
_I hate every moment you are not in this flat. That feeling inspired the trick and now I am paying for it._  
_SH_


	9. Sherlock Tries Again

Sherlock worked until he was too tired to work and made himself a bed on the sofa again, eventually falling to sleep to crap telly again. In the morning, he felt sad when he saw John's mug, but allowed himself to feel just a little more hopeful that maybe he'd be home properly. He showered and got dressed and then got back to work.

In the morning John went to work without checking his email, only glancing at his phone to see he had no new messages. He wanted to focus on work and getting through the day before letting his mind see or focus on anything that had to do with Sherlock. He was missing him more and more, and he just wanted things to be like before. He still just didn't know how that could happen.

Sherlock nipped out to follow the man the client was asking about. It didn't take long to find him, and it didn't take long to figure out what was going on. John had been right. The man was married, which meant that the client was a mistress. He wondered how she'd feel about that -- the natural response would be upset, after all, she'd hired them to investigate the man so clearly she was invested in the relationship. But then Sherlock remembered John saying that she'd seemed dodgy herself. Perhaps she wouldn't be bothered.

As he walked home, he thought about the client and her lover. Clearly that was a relationship built on lies -- his to her and her hiring a detective to check up on him. Those things couldn't be good signs. Of course, Sherlock could see that: if they'd had this case two weeks ago, he would've known a relationship like that was doomed. So why had he introduced a lie into his relationship with John? At the time, the untrue detail seemed small to Sherlock but he'd known it wouldn't seem that way to John. He had made such a colossal mistake.

But how else could he have told John about his feelings? He thought he'd tried subtle hints, but maybe he hadn't -- regardless, they were clearly too subtle to have an impact. What else could he have done except used a trick?

He could have been honest. That's what John had said at the park -- he'd said Sherlock should have talked to him. But what could Sherlock have said -- they'd never talked about things like that. No, that's not true. They actually talked about it quite a bit. John was always talking about wanting love and romance. He was always telling Sherlock what he wanted. Why hadn't Sherlock listened more carefully? John had said he wanted love. Sherlock had love to give him. John had said he wanted to meet someone romantically. So that's what Sherlock had to do. But he had to do it for real this time, not behind the trick of a false persona.

He hurried home and typed up what he'd found out about the case. He opened an email to John and attached his notes.

 _Case complete. You were correct. Relationship is an affair. Please see attached notes to approve before I send to client._  
_SH_  
 _PS. Would you please go on a date with me tomorrow night?_  
  
He hit send before he had a chance to chicken out of being honest.


	10. John Gives Sherlock A Chance

On the way home from work, John picked up dinner and got testy with the man who wondered why he was only ordering one meal these days. When he got to the hotel, he opened his computer. Now, he could look at his email and be alone with his thoughts and not have to worry about them interfering with work. When he saw Sherlock's subject line about notes, he saved the file and actually read through them first. He made a few changes and then hit reply before attaching them. He was about to hit send before realising he hadn't actually read Sherlock's email. He read it. And read it again.

He stared at the words for a very long time. A date. Sherlock was asking him on a proper date. As Sherlock. Because he wanted to take John out romantically. This was it: an honest show of affection from Sherlock Holmes. 

_Just a couple changes. I sent them back if you want to look them over. Also, I will go on a date with you. Email me the details, okay?  
JW_

Sherlock stared at the email. John just said yes. It couldn't be that easy. Could it? That's all? That's all it took, just asking John on a date?

Of course, Sherlock thought, of course. He'd been such an idiot.

He forgot about the client and the case. He needed to think, but he didn't want to delay in case John had temporarily gone mad and would soon come to his senses. He tried to concentrate. It had to be perfect. He thought of a place.

 _Tomorrow night. 7pm. Link to location attached._  
_SH_

He sent the email. And then his insecurity flared.

 _You do understand I'm asking to meet you romantically, correct?_  
SH

God, he was so very terrible at this sort of stuff. It was easier when he was Sharon. But he couldn't be her anymore. He had to be himself.

John had almost closed the computer when the responses came right away. He couldn't help chuckling softly, and his heart ached for Sherlock more. 

_I was hoping that was what you meant. I will see you there.  
JW_

Sherlock stared at the computer. He had a date. With John. He felt like jumping up and down like an utter fool.

 _Until tomorrow._  
xx

He hit send before realising he'd actually put kisses.

John saw the kisses and actually laughed out loud. Kisses! From Sherlock Holmes. He stood up and, in his excitement, started to pack his bag. It was only one date, and they were definitely going to have to work on trust, but he could do that at the flat now.

Sherlock stood up. He paced around the sitting room. He had a date in less than 24 hours. Then he remembered the case and rushed back to the computer. He read over John's changes and then sent the client an email. He felt better now that that was resolved. But he needed to settle himself down about the whole date business. He decided to take a long, hot bath to help him relax.

After packing John finished his dinner and climbed into bed. He was eager for tomorrow and because of that, he couldn't sleep at all. He tossed and turned while his brain played a hundred different scenarios in his head. He didn't know what was going to happen tomorrow night. But he would be home, and he knew he was excited for that.

Work the next day was awful. It was slow so John was able to spend a lot of time still thinking about the date, dozing off and having little half dreams about it. When he went home finally he took a cold shower to try and snap out of it a bit. He was just seeing Sherlock. But everything was going to be different this time.


	11. Sherlock's Rules Of Dating

After his bath, Sherlock went into his bedroom, hoping he'd be able to sleep comfortably tonight. He was surprised to find the bath had done the trick and his mind was relatively calm. He fell asleep quite easily.

In the morning, though, he was nervous again. He didn't know what to expect -- would John be coming home? Would they have to talk about what Sherlock had done, the mistake he'd made? Or would it just be a normal date?  
  
But in truth that possibility was no more reassuring because Sherlock had no idea what a normal date was like. He got online and went to some women's magazine sites, trying to figure out what happened on dates. He read for a few hours and then started to panic about the time, even though he still had four hours before he had to leave. He went into the bedroom to pick out his clothes. He couldn't decide if he should wear what he'd picked out last time -- he knew John liked that shirt but he worried about if it had been jinxed. Then he realised that was stupid. He took a shower and then got dressed. He tidied a little but didn't want to get too hopeful about John coming back to the flat. He sat down to wait until it was time to go.

John checked out of the hotel but stayed nearby. Perhaps he was being too optimistic, but he knew he wanted to go home and he knew that Sherlock wanted him home and they could work out the rest after. He started walking towards the flat slowly. It was getting close to the time they were supposed to meet so he didn't get too close, not wanting Sherlock to see him yet

When he was sure that Sherlock had left for the date, he went upstairs and dropped his bag inside, rushing back out to grab a taxi so he wouldn't leave Sherlock waiting too long. When he was dropped off, he hovered outside for a bit. He wished he didn't feel so nervous. It was easy to say that he wanted this, but now that he was here, he was more nervous than he expected. He walked in slowly, looking around for Sherlock.

Sherlock was sitting at the table, trying not to vomit. When John walked in, he started to feel better. God, he loved John. He really did.

"You look handsome," he said, standing up awkwardly to pull the chair for John. That little politeness was something that a number of the articles he'd read had mentioned.

"Thank you," John said softly, sitting and smiling at him. "You too."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. He looked around. "I hope you like this place, well, I hope we do. I've never been here but it seems nice. I thought it'd be nice to try . . . something new."

John smiled. "Yeah, it looks good here. I haven't had sushi in ages," he said. The air seemed heavy between them, still a bit awkward. "Listen, before we go on, I think we need to talk about it."

Sherlock wasn't sure what "it" was, but he was pretty sure this could be difficult. But, no matter what, he'd be honest. "Okay," he said. He took a small sip of the wine he'd ordered.

"Can you pretend I'm a complete idiot and just explain why?" John asked softly. He'd never be able to enjoy the date if he didn't get this out of the way.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I knew I loved you and I thought you might love me but wouldn't consider it because I was a man. I thought if I could be me but be a woman, you might at least give me a chance and then would be able to get over that one little detail." He took another drink before continuing. "That's what was in my head. But perhaps it was also because I don't know how to behave in these circumstances." There, Sherlock thought. That was 100% honest.

John took a long deep breath. "I suppose it's a bit my fault with my appearing so close minded. From now on we both will be open and honest, okay?" John asked.

Sherlock was surprised. That wasn't so painful actually. "Okay," he said and smiled. "Anything else? I'm supposed to let you choose the topic of conversation."

John looked a little confused, but shrugged and sipped at his wine. "I just wanted to understand, I guess," he said. "When did you start changing your mind about your interest in this sort of thing?"

"When I realised it was you," Sherlock said. "It's just . . . you. It's not like now I'm interested in this sort of thing . . . it's just you." He felt his face flush -- the words he was saying made him sound so stupid, but he was trying so hard to say only things that were true.

"Would you believe me if I told you it was only you? I mean, I wasn't lying about not being gay but you -- it's just you." He felt silly because he was taking Sherlock's words, but they were true. He wanted Sherlock to know that.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I believe you." The server came and they ordered. When he left Sherlock said, "We're two different people, John, but together we are . . . just right. From the beginning, it's all been right. You've always known that."

"I need you to stop saying that," John said gently. "I didn't know from the beginning, and if you hadn't done all this . . . I'm not sure I ever would have. Of course, you went about it the wrong way but we can't pretend I knew. I'm sorry."

"Hold on," Sherlock said. "The very beginning? That's how you normally act towards a stranger? I don't believe you. I don't believe that."

"I just meant . . . I knew we were different but I wasn't in love with you. I don't know." John felt like he was messing everything up but the thought of being in love with Sherlock was such a surprise, how could he have known the whole time?

"I didn't say you were in love with me -- I believe you that you didn't know that because . . . well, just because, you know why," Sherlock said. "But from the beginning, what we were . . . you've had that before with other people?"

John thought about the beginning, about the pull that Sherlock had on him, about the excitement and thrills of the cases and of just being with Sherlock. "No," he admitted. "I've never had anything like that before."

"Neither have I, John," Sherlock said. He reached over tentatively and let his hand rest on John's. "Something was different from the start, John, but then I . . . had more feelings, later on. The difference -- that was first -- and then I loved you. I tried to say . . . I think I tried but you were so adamant. I don't want to lose what made us different. I don't want to lose that . . . even if you don't feel the other . . ." He slid his hand back and picked up his glass. "I'm sorry again about . . . you know." He looked at his wine.

"I accept your apology, okay? Things will go back to how they were. Only it'll be even better now," John tapped his wine on Sherlock's and sipped at it slowly.

"Okay," Sherlock said and made a smile. "How do you think the date is going? Don't compare it to others just -- am I doing it right?"

John smiled. "Yeah, the date is going great." The food came and John pulled his plate close. "We will have another one, I think."

Sherlock made a look of surprise, but then smiled. The magazines said a mention of another date so early on would be a good sign. He popped a piece of sushi into his mouth. "Did you work today?" he asked.

John nodded. "Yeah, I did. I wasn't a very good doctor today, thinking about the date and about you," he confessed.

That made Sherlock feel warm, or maybe it was the wine doing that. Regardless, he let himself smile. "Well," he said. "If anyone died, I don't want to be blamed."

"Unless the sniffles are suddenly deadly, I doubt anyone will die," John smiled.;

"Good," Sherlock said. "We had one other client contact last week -- um, should I contact them to meet with us?" He wondered if John was coming home. John hadn't brought his bag so he knew it wasn't likely tonight, but things seemed like they were going okay and Sherlock just wanted John home as soon as possible.

"Sure. I can have the last case typed up by then so I won't fall behind," he smiled.

"Are you working tomorrow or should I see if they come by then?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm not working tomorrow," John said. "They can come by then, whatever time is convenient."

"Is there a specific time that's more convenient for you?" Sherlock asked. "I mean . . . I'll be there all day, won't I, so what time works best for you -- morning, evening, what?"

John looked at Sherlock and remembered that he didn't know his bag was already at the flat. He didn't know John was coming home. The thought of the surprise made him smile. He coughed to cover it up a bit. "Whenever. I'm free all day," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said, a bit disappointed. "Um . . . I don't know what else to talk about on a date. They said I should let you do most of the talking. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Wait, who said?" John asked.

"The magazines," Sherlock answered without thinking. He felt his face flush with embarrassment so he tried to change the subject. "You need to get that blog post up. Afer this case, we've got nothing else to work on."

"What's this case about?" John asked.

"I don't remember," Sherlock admitted. "It was the least promising of the ones from last week." He swallowed. "I'll contact him in the morning, but I . . . I was trying to find out if you might be at the flat, you know, if you were going to come home." He swallowed again. "I'm . . . being honest," he added.

John nodded. "It's okay, Sherlock. But I am telling you now that I will be at the meeting, okay?" He didn't want to give it away just yet. He wanted to see the surprise.

"So I'm supposed to do this all the time . . . the being honest business?" Sherlock said. "That's what you want?"

John nodded. "That's what we will both do now," he said.

Sherlock sighed a bit. "I mean, what about little stuff -- like I don't like a film you like or, I don't know, you do something that annoys me a bit or something? I'm supposed to say?"

John nodded. "Yes. I mean, I know there will always be little lies, things that we will compromise to make each other happy, but it can't be anything big."

Sherlock looked over at John, looked straight into his eyes. "I will try, John," he said. "I don't want to lose you." Then he finished the rest of his wine.

John reached out and touched Sherlock's hand lightly. "I know, Sherlock." It was hard to see Sherlock this way, someone who was always so sure of himself now so nervous, all because he had hurt John. John never would have expected this and, if he was honest, it scared him a bit. He realised suddenly how much power each of them had on the other's life. "We will be okay," he said.

Sherlock ate a little more. He looked up at John and smiled. He was starting to feel a little more relaxed. "Is the date over when we're done eating?" he asked, not eating anymore just yet, in case he needed to make the night last longer.

John shook his head. "Whenever we're ready to go home," he said.

"I'm not ready for it to end," Sherlock said. He was finding the honesty a little easier, but maybe that's just because the wine had kicked in a bit. He wasn't drunk, but the nervousness about everything was dissipating. "I might order dessert so you'll stay here longer."

John smiled. "I will walk you home so we have even more time," he said, finishing his own meal and bringing his wine closer now.

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I wouldn't have eaten dessert anyway." He took a deep breath. "You know, this meal doesn't feel incredibly different to many of the meals we've had together before . . . but it is, isn't it . . . in a way, I mean."

"In a way," John nodded. "Since we know it's a date, it's different, I suppose."

"It's more than that for me," Sherlock said. "Because I know that you know what I'm feeling and that's a big difference."

John smiled wider. "Yes, I suppose that's true. You know how I'm feeling too, yeah?"

"You mean that you forgive me?"

John thought about it. "Yeah, but I mean the other feeling."

"What other feeling do you mean?"

"I mean that I love you," John said.

Sherlock sat still for a second. "You mean, like before . . . or like how I feel?" he asked tentatively.

"Like how you feel," John said, a bit softer than he meant to.

"Really, John? Even though I'm horrible?" Sherlock asked, fiddling with something on the table.

"You're not horrible, Sherlock. You make a mistake. You're human." John reached across and touched his hand again so Sherlock would stop fiddling.

Sherlock rubbed his fingers against John's hand. "Are you going to walk me home now?" he asked.

John nodded. "Yeah, I will," he said, taking out his wallet to pay for dinner.

"No," Sherlock said, pulling out his wallet. "I asked you on this date, so I should pay, I know that's how it works." He threw some notes on the table and then stood up. "I want to do it all right, John."

John put his wallet away. "I'll get the next one, then." He stood and put on his coat, walking out with Sherlock and heading for the flat.

"I hope we can do this again, John," Sherlock said as they walked. "I've missed you so much," he added quietly.

"We will," John assured him, touching his arm again.


	12. Home

They walked quietly. When they got to the flat, Sherlock turned to look at John. "Thank you for coming to dinner with me," he said. "This has been the best date of my life, and that has nothing to do with the fact that it's also been the only date of my life." He smiled awkwardly.

John smiled up at him and then glanced at the door. "Do you have your key? Should I use mine?" he asked, fishing for it.

"I've got it," Sherlock said. “Are you in a rush to leave or something?" He scrambled to take the key from his pocket.

"I just wanted to get inside, it's cold," John said. "I thought maybe I could have a cup of tea. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Sherlock said, trying not to sound as giddy as he felt. He pushed open the door and tried to be normal as they walked upstairs. The mugs were, of course, already on the table so he put the kettle on and tried to focus on his breath to calm himself down.

John hung his jacket and glanced at his duffel bag, still in the sitting room behind his chair. He stood in the doorway to block the view a bit. "Thanks," John smiled.

Sherlock brought the tea over and sat down in his chair. "Um," he said. "Am I supposed to be acting like this is the first time you've been here? Is this part of the date? I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing, John, and I feel a bit . . . stupid." He stared into his mug.

"Um, it could be part of the date," he said. "Sometimes people come in after."

"You never brought people in," Sherlock said. "Oh . . . I guess you might have gone back to theirs." He felt a bit stupid again. "John," he said sitting up quickly and leaning forward a bit. "I just want it to be . . . not normal, I know, because things are different . . . just you know normal between us. I want you to come home. Please."

"I know, Sherlock," he said quietly. John wanted him to see the bag, wanted to see happiness on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock looked up at John. His face looked . . . anticipatory. He didn't know what that meant. He glanced down again and as he did, he saw John's bag behind his chair. When did he bring that in? "John," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral though he knew his face was betraying his attempts. "Have you come home, then? Is that why that's here? Please say, John."

"Yes, that's why that's here," he said, still watching Sherlock.

Sherlock jumped up from his chair and moved over to John's. He was down on his knee awkwardly but he didn't even care. "John," he said, grabbing onto his hand. "We belong here together -- however you want us to be, we'll be -- but this is where we belong. Please don't leave again." He looked up at him. He didn't even care if it seemed silly or dramatic, it was so true -- things weren't right when John wasn't here. Already Sherlock could feel his mind and body relaxing a bit, now that John was home again.

John put his mug down and covered Sherlock's hand, touching his cheek with the other one. "I'm not leaving again, okay? I'm home now and we're going to be okay." He stared down at Sherlock, at his wide eyes and full, nervous lips. He leaned down and put a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. "I'm home now."

Sherlock moved back a little. "You kissed me?" he said, like a question even though it really wasn't one.

John blushed lightly but held Sherlock's gaze. "I did, I hope that's okay," he said softly. 

"Yes," Sherlock said. "I want to, I mean, I've wanted to, I was wondering . . . I just mean, yes, it was okay that you kissed me." He moved from the floor to the sofa. "I'm glad you're home. When did you . . . you didn't have your bag at the restaurant, did you?"

John turned so he was still facing Sherlock, wishing he was closer still. "No. I brought it here before I went to the restaurant," John said. 

"So you already knew you were coming back?" Sherlock said. "What if I had been a bad date?"

John shrugged. "I knew you wouldn't be, and I wanted to come home."

"Well, good," Sherlock said. "Very good. I'm glad you're home. I'm very glad." He was pretty sure his face looked stupidly pleased but he knew there was nothing he could do to stop the overwhelming feeling of happiness that had filled him. "Um, do you think, you might kiss me again? Or should I kiss you -- I mean, I asked you out, aren't I the one who is supposed to do the kiss?" He fiddled with his hands on his lap.

"Well, it doesn't really matter, does it?" John smiled. "Do you want me to come sit over there?"

"I think we should do it properly, John," Sherlock said. He moved his hand to the space next to him on the sofa. "Come over here, please."


	13. Sherlock Ends The Date Properly

John stood and moved over to the sofa, sitting down and turning his body to face Sherlock properly. 

Sherlock turned towards John. "Okay," he said. "Now, put your hands on your lap and look . . . coy."

John smiled and tilted his head. "I'm not sure I know how," he chuckled, putting his hands into his lap.

"Do your best, please," Sherlock said. "We should follow the rules."

John looked away and pretended to not know what was coming, hoping that was what Sherlock meant.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I enjoyed our date tonight," he said. "I hope we can do it again soon." He reached over and set his hands on top of John's.

At Sherlock's touch, John couldn't help looking over at him, then tried not to again because he was afraid his smile would reveal just how cute Sherlock was being right now.

"I'm going to kiss you good night now," Sherlock said and he leaned in and gave John's mouth a soft kiss. He pulled back a little, still holding John's hand, and then smiled at him. "Okay, be normal now."  
  
John licked his lips softly and turned to face Sherlock properly. He didn't really know how to be normal now. "Thank you for a lovely date," he said.

"Don't get angry, John," Sherlock said. "But I'd like to do something that might not normally happen on first dates." He leaned in a little closer again.

"I'm not angry," he whispered, sitting very still as Sherlock moved closer. He realised that Sherlock could mean a hundred different things, but he couldn't help feeling warm with hope that whatever he meant, it would mean another kiss.

Sherlock moved in and kissed John a little more hungrily. He held the kiss, letting his tongue flick and lick at John's mouth as his hands moved to grip his thighs. He pulled back and said, "If I had been her, John, if Sharon had been a real woman, your first date wouldn't have been like this. Because you were looking for love, and that's not really how it works. You weren't looking for it with me, but, John, that's where you found it." He lifted one hand into John's hair and kissed him again.

The heated kiss surprised John, but he returned it eagerly. Sherlock was good at this, better than John would have expected. Even when he paused to speak John was desperate to taste him again, and without answering they were kissing again, John grabbing at Sherlock's arm to hold him there.

"John," Sherlock exhaled as he leaned in against John. "We can stop anytime you want," he mumbled in between kisses. He didn't want to stop, but he wasn't sure how John felt since this was only their first official date. He didn't want to do anything wrong.

"I don't want to stop," John murmured, using the chance to dip down and suck at Sherlock's neck softly.

Sherlock let a small noise escape from his throat. He leaned in a little more, pushing John towards the back of the sofa. He kept kissing his mouth even more hungrily. 

John pulled Sherlock with him, half on top of him. He couldn't get enough and it seemed Sherlock couldn't either

Sherlock pressed against John -- he felt like after these days apart, he literally needed to be as close to John as he could possibly be. He shifted slightly so they were lying together, their legs tangled. He paused and looked up at John. "There's not much room," he mumbled. "We live here . . . do we have to stay on the sofa when we have two beds to choose from?"  
  
John huffed a hard breath and shook his head. "We can go anywhere," he murmured. "Yours is closer," he added.

"Come to mine," Sherlock said, pushing himself up and pulling on John's hand.


	14. In Sherlock's Room

In the bedroom, Sherlock turned John towards him, wrapping his arms around his body and kissing him passionately, before pushing him down onto the bed. Sherlock crawled over him, keeping his body a few inches from John's, before kissing him softly. "This okay?" he asked cautiously.

"God Sherlock, yes," John moaned, trying to drag him closer, to touch him. He was so sexy, so confident.

Sherlock dropped down and he began to slowly rock his hips against John's. "God," he moaned softly. "Just . . . I've missed you and now . . . this . . ." He kissed him hard again, his hands moving anywhere, everywhere, over John's body.

"Can we take something off? I -- it's hot . . ." John moaned, pushing his hands into Sherlock's shirt as soon as he pulled it from his trousers.

Sherlock smiled and started pulling on John's clothes. "They definitely didn't say anything about this happening on first dates," he said as he lifted John's shirt over his head.

"Different with you," John murmured, working open Sherlock's buttons and pushing the shirt from his shoulders. It didn't even come off all the way but he didn't care. He started touching bare skin immediately. 

Sherlock wouldn't admit it, but he was pleased this wasn't John's usual first date behaviour because he hated thinking about John and those women. He made another little moan when John's hand touched his skin. Of course, they'd touched each other before but it was never like this and he couldn't believe how good it felt.

"God, Sherlock, you're bloody beautiful," John sighed, leaning up to kiss Sherlock's mouth again, harder this time. 

Sherlock's face went warm, but to be fair, his whole body was quite warm. He kissed John over and over again. "Can I . . . touch you?" he asked tentatively.

John nodded and, as Sherlock settled his weight a bit to use both hands, John started working open Sherlock's trousers. 

"Are you going to touch me?" Sherlock asked breathlessly. "You don't have to, John . . . you don't have to do anything . . ." He reached down and started to open John's trousers, sliding his hand inside them.

"I want to, Sherlock. I do. Is that okay?" he asked, shoving his pants down as well.

"God, yes, John," Sherlock said, a small smiled on his face. He wrapped his hand around John's cock, starting a slow stroke. He kissed him again.

John whined softly, flushing at the sound. He was already desperate for it, for Sherlock's touch. He started to stroke Sherlock.

"Just slow at first, John," Sherlock whispered. "It feels good . . . does it feel good to you?"

John nodded, opening his eyes and meeting Sherlock's. "I…it feels so good," he said lamely. He felt like his brain wasn't working properly. 

Sherlock dropped his mouth to John's chest, kissing the warm skin before sucking lightly on his nipple. He let his hips rock against John's hand. "God . . . it's . . . driving me insane," he said, looking up and smiling a little. He saw John's flushed face. "God, you look gorgeous," he said.

John flushed darker, biting his lip and burying his face in Sherlock's arm before looking up at him again. "It's like nothing else," he said softly. And yet it was nothing different either. The touching, the kissing, the heated skin and heavy sounds -- of course, he'd experienced those things before with others. But Sherlock made it different. He always did. 

Sherlock moved back up and kissed John softly. "Show me," he whispered as he began to let his own body go, his hips now thrusting as his hand sped up on John.

John gripped a bit harder and used the precome leaking out to help his hand move faster. He closed his eyes again and tried to focus on everything happening. The heat in his groin had coiled tighter than he'd realised. "I'm close . . ."

"John," Sherlock huffed and then it was happening, he was coming against John's hand, panting heavily as he tried to maintain his stroke on John.

"Fuck . . . oh God. . ." John moaned loudly. All of the different ways he'd seen Sherlock, thinking and playing his violin and pouting and wearing disguises for cases, he never thought he would see him like this. John followed, coming between them as he moaned Sherlock's name over and over. 

Sherlock tried to watch John let go, feeling the way his body lifted from the bed and then released. God, it was beautiful. He let himself collapse against him on the bed, both of them breathing heavily. This was what he'd wanted -- what he'd wanted John to want. It was everything he'd knew it'd be.

John couldn't think for a good two minutes. He focused on breathing and the weight of Sherlock on top of him. And then slowly his brain kicked on again, and he wondered if Sherlock was comfortable in his half lowered clothes and if John would be able to sleep in this room and also that sex with Sherlock, a man, wasn't as scary as he'd thought. 

"John?" Sherlock finally broke the silence. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," John murmured. "Better than."

Sherlock lifted his head and looked up at John, petting his hair lightly. "Thank you . . . for forgiving me and for letting this happen. Thank you," he said softly.

John kissed his mouth softly. "I love you, Sherlock."

"I love you, too, John," Sherlock said. "I do, I know I do."

John took a deep breath. "Take your clothes off properly and lay with me," he said, squirming out of his own.

Sherlock took off his clothes and pulled at the duvet. "Let's get in the bed," he said. "Will you sleep here?"

John nodded. "Yeah, I want to," he said as he got under the covers.

"I just need you to stay close to me," Sherlock said. "Because I missed you so much."

"I will. I want to cuddle with you while we sleep," John said, moving closer to Sherlock.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John. "It's just you, John," he said. "It's just you that I want like this."

John nodded and held on to him tightly.

That was good enough for Sherlock. He let his head rest on the pillow and listened to John breathe. He inhaled deeply and even the air seemed different now that John was back. He held onto John as he let his body and brain relax for sleep.


	15. Morning

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, he realised it must be the middle of the night. He squeezed himself closer to John and said his name softly, before giving his neck a kiss and trying to go back to sleep again.

John woke up early in the morning. There wasn't much light coming into the room and he wondered now what time they had actually gone to bed last night. And then he realized he said they. They had gone to bed together. He shifted to look at Sherlock, smiling softly and lightly tracing his face. This had really happened.

Sherlock felt John's touch and opened his eyes. "Morning, you're home," he said first, before smiling. "Are you still okay with all this?" he asked.

John nodded, touching his face and jaw and neck again, just with his fingertips. "Yeah, I am," he said. "You?"

"I am, John," Sherlock said. "I mean, I was pretty sure this was what I wanted, but now that it's happened, I know I was right." He shifted onto his side to look at John more closely. "We can be whatever we want now."

John lowered his hand again and smiled. "Whatever we want," he agreed.

Sherlock rolled onto his back. "Do you have to work today?" he asked. "Are we getting up?"

"I don't have to be at work for another three hours," he told Sherlock.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" Sherlock asked.

John shook his head. "I'm not sleepy anymore," he said. "Do you?"

"No," Sherlock said. "But I don't want you to leave this room." He rolled onto his back. "I mean, unless you come back immediately, carrying a cup of tea." He glanced over at him and smiled.

"Is that your way of asking? I don't know if I like it," John grinned. 

"Oh god," Sherlock said. "I only read about first date etiquette -- you're telling me there's a morning-after-the-first-date etiquette as well? This is so much work!" He waved his arm dramatically.

John laughed. "It's just normal etiquette. Please and thank yous."

"Please," Sherlock said. "Wait, what was I asking for? I've forgotten. Oh yeah, please will you get me a cup of tea? Or just stay here and promise you'll take the day off instead?"

John looked at him for a long moment. "I have a short shift actually . . . it would be possible," he mused.

"John, you should," Sherlock said. "Because I am irresponsible sometimes and I think this might be one of those times."

John grinned. "Give me one second," he said, getting up to get his phone. While he called he made tea. When he was done he brought two mugs into the bedroom, grinning stupidly.

Sherlock took the tea, smiling and nodding thanks. "Well?" he asked.

"I called off. I said there was a pressing, dangerous case to deal with," he grinned.

"John, that's terribly irresponsible of you," Sherlock said, taking a sip of tea. "What about all those patients? People are going to die because of you. You should be ashamed . . ."

"They won't die! And you were all for it before," he said quickly.

"I'm all for it now," Sherlock said. "But I'm just wondering -- you were the responsible one before, are you just giving up on that role now? Because that could cause difficulties . . . "

John couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. "Sherlock, I've just woken up from an amazing night with someone I love. I want to bask in it for a little while and working for four and a half hours doesn't really compete," he said as he gave Sherlock's arm a little push.

Sherlock smiled. "I guess I'm just seeing your true colours now-- you've just been pretending to be responsible just to kill time until you got all loved up." He reached over and pinched John's arm lightly. "Clearly I cannot properly run our business on my own -- I only hired you because you're incredibly organized and responsible. Now I see that as long as you're sweet on someone, you'll gladly let all your elderly patients die. Mind you, it kind of makes me like you even more, but I'm not sure it'll be good for our clients." He set his mug on the bedside table and then curled up around John.

"No one will die," he grumbled, wrapping his arms around Sherlock.

"I won't feel guilty if they do," Sherlock said. "Are you . . . flirting with me, John Watson?"

"I was, before you started talking about people dropping dead," he teased softly.

"Those bits were my favourite parts," Sherlock said, holding one of John's hands and fiddling with his thumbnail. He looked up at him. "I know we can't be like this forever -- at some point, we'll have to go back to functioning normally -- but thanks for staying home today. Just one day of just . . . us." He leaned in to give him a soft kiss.

"There's no rush," he said as he kissed back lightly.

Sherlock slid his arm up John's back as he kissed him again. "Let's just lie here for a bit then," he said. "I'm a little sleepy again . . . I didn't do so well when you weren't here. I might need a little more sleep." He closed his eyes and pressed up against John.

"Go ahead and rest, there's no rush. We have all day." John started to pet his hair as he watched him doze off. He wanted to hop into the shower, but he didn't want to get up until he was sure Sherlock was sleeping.

When Sherlock's breathing evened out, John slipped away and went into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror while the water warmed up. He didn't look any different, but he felt it so much. He felt lighter and happier.

He showered quickly, not wanting Sherlock to wake up alone. When he got out, he freshened his tea and sat beside Sherlock, watching him sleeping. He looked peaceful.

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, John was sitting up next to him. He stretched his arms a bit, yawned and then towards John. "Why is your hair wet?" he asked. "Is it raining? Did you go out? Are you leaving again, John?" He could hear his voice, hear the panic in it. He didn't mean for it to sound like that, but he couldn't deny he felt it. He sat himself up awkwardly.

"What? Sherlock, no." John met Sherlock's gaze and shook his head. "I just had a shower, that's all."

Sherlock felt the panic go. "Good, fine," he said, stretching again. "I suppose I should as well so you don't put me to shame." He slid out of bed, grabbing his dressing gown, and making towards the door. Before he left, he glanced at John and added, "I'll only be a minute or two. Don't go while I'm gone, okay?"

It hurt a bit to hear, but John understood Sherlock's worry and hoped it would pass soon. "I won't," he promised.

Sherlock headed into the bathroom, showering as quickly as possible. When he came back out, he called "Need more tea?" as he went to the kitchen to turn on the kettle.  
  
"No thank you," John called back, still finishing the mug he'd made before.

Sherlock poured himself a fresh cup and went to get back in bed. "So now what?" he asked, holding the cup up around his face. He felt a bit chilly walking around with just his dressing gown and wet hair.

"Now . . . we just be together," John said. He leaned over and kissed Sherlock's mouth softly. "There's your good morning kiss."

"Do you think you might do that every morning?" Sherlock asked. "I'm just saying if you were, I'm thinking I might like that."

"I think -- I'm going to do it -- all the time," John said between three more kisses.

Sherlock smiled and let John kiss him. "You know, I've seen you pine for romance, but I've never seen you actually . . . you know, in the middle of it. Are you always like this?" 

"Like what?" John asked, tilting his head a bit. 

"Like . . . horny all the time?" Sherlock said, laughing a little.

John laughed. "I am not horny! I -- well, maybe a little bit," he admitted. 

"Even though I'm, you know, still a man?" Sherlock asked, fiddling with John's arm a bit.

John nodded. "It doesn't seem to matter. You're very attractive and I love you very much. It's enough," he said. 

Sherlock's face flushed but he tried to ignore it. "Yes, of course, that's all true, I am quite attractive," he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "But, you know, if you're horny for more than kissing, the fact that I'm a man might matter a little . . . I mean, things might be a little different. . ."

John bit his lip. "I've thought about all of that and -- yes, it will be different. But like you said, everything with us has been different," he said. "We . . . well, I'm not exactly sure what your experience is but I have none in this area so we can just . . . take it slow," he said. 

"I just don't want you to feel pressured. We can . . . do whatever you want or not do what you don't want," Sherlock said. "I don't want to make a big thing about it but you know, you've kind of made a big thing about it, so I just want you to be sure." He laid back down again, shifting to get comfortable.

"I don't feel pressured, Sherlock. I know that we're both a bit off because of what's happened this past week. Maybe we shouldn't rush . . ." The truth was he wanted Sherlock, but he didn't want to have sex if Sherlock was still thinking he was going to run out at the first opportunity.

"Let's stop talking about it. This isn't very romantic," Sherlock said teasingly. He moved a bit closer to him. "Let's talk about something else . . . what do you want to do later, for dinner, I mean?" As he asked, he casually put his hand on John's chest, stroking the skin lightly.

"Hmm. I can make something for us," he said. He glanced at Sherlock's hand. "I can cook something for us."

"Keep talking," Sherlock said. "What kind of food?" He trailed his fingers up and down John's chest, lightly tickling a nipple and then moving his hand down to John's abdomen, then repeating the movement.

"Maybe baked chicken with potatoes or salmon and mixed vegetables or a stir fry . . ." It was odd talking about food while he was slowly getting turned on. 

"Do we have any wine in the cupboard?" Sherlock asked. He kept his hand moving, slowly shifting his own body a bit closer to John's. Each time his hand dropped down, it went a bit lower. "White or red?"

"Depends on what I make," he murmured, his voice trailing off. He didn't want to talk about food. He didn't want to talk. He wanted to touch. He wanted to kiss. 

"Whatever you want," Sherlock whispered. He reached down and held John's cock softly and moved his head to John's chest, nuzzling his nipple. He could feel his own cock start to stiffen.

"I want to touch you. And kiss you," John mumbled. "And . . . and so many more things," he finished lamely. 

"I don't believe anyone's stopping you," Sherlock said softly and then glanced up and smiled. He moved his hand lightly on John's cock as he continued to cover his chest with kisses.

John tugged him up and kissed his mouth hard, licking out to find Sherlock's tongue. It was a bit rougher than the slow movements Sherlock was doing. He forced himself to slow down into the kiss.

Sherlock moaned softly. It was all so good and they had all day long to enjoy this. He pressed himself against John's hip. "I thought you mentioned something about touching me," he said cheekily.

John grinned against his mouth and reached into his dressing gown, wrapping his fingers around him and stroking at the same pace Sherlock was keeping. 

"Mmmm," Sherlock hummed. "That's good." He rocked slowly into John's hand.

John nodded. He'd always thought it would be odd, touching another man like he touched himself. But the sounds Sherlock made when it was happening, and the heat and the building of his pleasure -- John wanted to keep touching him, keep going, so he could hear and feel more.

"Yes . . ." the word escaped from Sherlock's lips without his really thinking about it. He took a deep breath to calm himself a bit. He looked up at John. "That feels good . . . all that practice paid off," he teased.

"Shut up," John murmured, and then to make sure that he would, he leaned up and kissed him again. 

Sherlock kissed John a little harder this time, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. "Do you like how I touch you?" he asked quietly. "Do you want me to do something different?" 

John nodded. "I love it," he said. "And you can do anything you want." 

"No, John, I want to do what you like," Sherlock said. "I want you to like it all." He shifted more of his weight onto John's body. "I like it all . . ." 

"I like . . . a lot of things," John said. He glanced at Sherlock lips and wondered if he should ask. 

"Tell me please," Sherlock said. "John, I want to give you what you want." His voice was a bit husky as his breathing changed.

"Will you use your mouth?" he asked softly.

"Yes, please," Sherlock said, smiling. He moved over top of John now, kissing his mouth again and then slowly sliding down his body, leaving kisses and licks along the way. He moved between his legs and leaned over, first lightly licking John's cock before he finally lifted it with his hand and began swirling his tongue and sucking it. 

John watched Sherlock move lower with ragged breaths. And then that lovely mouth was on his cock and his breathing stopped all together. He had hardly started and it was perfect. "Sherlock," he moaned softly.

Sherlock kept his mouth and hand moving on John, occasionally shifting to put a kiss on his thigh or look up at him. He whispered John's name and swallowed him down again. There was a slow intensity to it all that made Sherlock teeter between wanting to make it last forever and feeling like at any moment they could both explode.

John lifted his head, unable to stop watching. It felt incredible and it looked even better. "Sherlock, God . . ." he moaned, falling flat again.

"Should I keep going?" Sherlock asked softly, continuing to lick and kiss and stroke as he waited for John's response.

"Yes . . . please yes, don't stop," John moaned, moving to look down again. He carded his fingers into Sherlock's hair, pushing it from his face.

Sherlock put a kiss on John's stomach and then turned his attention back to John's cock, intensifying his movements, taking John down further as he continued to stroke at the base.

He made a small moan in his throat as he sped up his movements. His own hips were rocking against the bed. He felt desperate, worried he'd come just from the sight of John letting go.

John whined softly when Sherlock didn't move away. "Sherlock," he gasped, just before he let go and came. His hand curled in Sherlock's hair and his back arched as he moaned Sherlock's name.

Sherlock swallowed as John came, stroking what he could. He dropped his head to John's thigh as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, he said, "Fuck, John . . . that was gorgeous." He looked up at him. "You okay?"

"I'm okay," he breathed, rubbing his face with one hand and reaching for Sherlock with the other. "I want . . . I want to do it for you," he said between breaths.

Sherlock moved up to lie next to John. "Only if you really want to, John," he said softly. "You can stop at anytime." He was holding himself -- in truth, dying to be touched by John in any way -- but this seemed like it might be a big step and he didn't want John to feel any pressure.

John kissed Sherlock's mouth as he sat up and moved between his legs. "I want to," he assured Sherlock. He bent and kissed his belly, moving downwards slowly.

Sherlock lay back on the bed, trying not to think too much. He felt John's breath on his skin and it felt so good. "I'm already about dying here, John," he said quietly. "Doing it to you was driving me crazy and then watching you . . ." He lifted a hand to his face, afraid seeing what was happening would be too much.

"I'll try and be quick," he murmured. "But I want it to be good." He was nervous because he didn't know what he was doing. He tipped Sherlock's cock towards him and licked the tip first, then along the shaft. It wasn't bad, and the sounds already coming from Sherlock made him want to do more. He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked, moving down a bit.

"God, John," Sherlock called more loudly than he'd intended to. "God, it feels so good." He was trying not to move his body much, he was trying to keep himself in check so John didn't feel any pressure, but he felt like he was already kind of melting into the bed. He reached down and softly rested his hand on John's arm.

John moved his hand so their fingers laced together. And then he started moving his head, bobbing up and down and hollowing his cheeks and licking out with his tongue. 

Sherlock moaned again, squeezing his hand tightly around John's. "God, please," he said. He lifted his head for just a moment and whispered, "I'm going to come soon, John, I'm sorry. You can stop if you want to." He had to drop his head again -- the sight was almost too much.

When Sherlock said he was going to come, John lifted his head and went back to stroking him firmly.

Sherlock called John's name and then squeezed shut his eyes as he came. He held tight onto John's hand as it coursed through him, and then he opened his eyes. "God, John, amazing," he mumbled, trying to catch his breath.

John watched in awe as Sherlock came, licking his lips lightly and promising himself next time he would stay and do it proper. But he was nervous about that. So, nervously, he leaned forward and licked at a small drop beading on the side of Sherlock's cock. He wrinkled his nose, but it was more of an instinct. It wasn't bad. He swallowed and licked at more, unable to believe what he was doing. Then he sat back and looked up at Sherlock's face. "How was it?" he asked. 

"John," Sherlock said, pulling at him to move closer. "God, it was . . . incredible." He felt a bit exhausted and a little overwhelmed -- the sex was so fantastic but it was clear it meant so much as well, more than Sherlock could make sense of at the moment.

"Well, you're very kind," John smiled softly.

"Did you like it?" Sherlock asked, cuddling John towards him.

John curled against him and nodded. "I liked what it did to you -- that I could do that to you."

"You're definitely the responsibility party, John Watson," Sherlock said, smiling. "But promise me, yeah, we'll only do things we both like. I want it all to be good." He pulled him even closer.

"I promise," he agreed. "Things we both like. But you have to promise too, okay? Don't hold back because of my lack of experience," he said. 

Sherlock smiled. "John Watson, I promise," he said. "I'm not quite sure you realise what you've done here. I closed off this part of my life only because there was no one I wanted to share it with. Now there's you. I love this with you. I won't hold back. Trust me." He looked over and made a cheeky face at him. "Can I kiss you?"

"Any time you want," John said, and the he dramatically puckered his lips.

Sherlock kissed John softly on the mouth. "If your request for me to 'not hold back' was true, I'm quite eager to try other things," he said, leaning back on the bed. "However, I confess I'm a little out of practice with all this. I might need a little rest, I'm afraid."

"How long?" John asked. "You're younger than me!"

"True, but I don't masturbate three times a day like you do," Sherlock said. He snuggled down a bit. "Let's just lie here for a little bit. I'm sure I won't need too much time."

"I don't do it three times a day," John grumbled as he lay down, kissing Sherlock's shoulder.

"Well whatever," Sherlock said. "Just shush and let me spoon you," he added as he pushed John over and snuggled in to curl around him. "Say something nice to me while I rest."

"I like when you spoon me," John said. "That is nice."

"Good," Sherlock said softly. He closed his eyes for a few moments. This was all good actually. He hoped it would stay like this, he hoped it wouldn't do something stupid -- like lie when he should be truthful or be truthful when he should have been silent -- that would ruin their relationship.

John closed his eyes and covered Sherlock's hand with his own, tapping lightly on his fingers. 


	16. They Don't Hold Back

They lay there quietly for a little with Sherlock drifting in and out of an almost-sleep. Then he felt a bit less exhausted so he opened his eyes, looking at the back of John's neck. "John," he whispered. "You know earlier when you were talking about my not holding back because of your inexperience . . . does that mean you were thinking that one day we'd . .. you know, do more?" For some reason he couldn't bring himself to say the exact words he was sure they both knew he meant.

John stopped tapping his fingers and simply held Sherlock's hand. "Yes, I was thinking about it. Imagining it," he murmured. 

"We can do whatever you want, John," Sherlock said. "I just want it all to be good and so far it all has been. Well, more than good. Perfect, really."

"Do you mean right now?" he asked softly, tracing Sherlock's fingers now. 

"I mean whenever you want, whatever you want," Sherlock said.

John licked his lips lightly before being Sherlock's hand up and kissing his hand. "I feel like I want everything now. I'm in a hurry."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Okay," he said. "I'm amenable to that." He was smiling widely and put a kiss on the back of John's neck.

John pushed his body back against Sherlock, rolling into his groin. He huffed softly.

Sherlock moved his hand to John's cock, wrapping his fingers around it lightly. He pressed his hips against John, kissing his neck and then shoulders.

John pressed back harder. "I want you to," he said quietly, closing his eyes as heat flooded his body. 

Sherlock stretched backwards and grabbed a bottle of lube and a condom from his bedside cabinet. He set them on the bed in front of John's body and reached down to stroke his cock again. "Just talk to me, okay?" he whispered, rocking his hips against John's arse.

John stared at the supplies in front of him and blinked rapidly, arching into Sherlock's movement and touch. "I don't know how it will feel," he confessed.

"I want it to feel good," Sherlock said. "It'll feel full and stretched. We can go slow and stop at any time." He pulled one of John's hand to John's cock to encourage him to take over the stroking. Then Sherlock moved his hand behind John's body, sliding it between his legs, brushing lightly against John's balls. Then he shifted so his own cock pressed between John's legs. He kept rocking so John could get a sense of the movement.

John moaned softly at the words stretched and full. He knew how it all worked, of course, but he never considered how it would feel. He was curious, and the more Sherlock spoke and touched, the more aroused he became by the idea. "I want to feel you inside," he whispered, stroking faster and moaning a bit louder as Sherlock's cock moved between his legs. "I want it, Sherlock."

Sherlock smiled. "I want it too, John. But we don't want to rush . . . slow down." He reached round and grabbed the lube. He dribbled some onto his hand and then began rubbing between John's legs, letting his fingertips pass slowly over John's hole. He hummed. "You're so sexy . . . "

"Slow . . .yes," John nodded.

"It'll feel a bit like this," Sherlock said softly, pushing in one finger. "But more . . ." He waited to let John's body adjust to the new sensation, and then slowly pulsed his finger as his hips rocked a bit.

John gasped softly before he realised there was no need. It wasn't painful. It was different, that was all. He nodded, closing his eyes.

Sherlock kept up the motion of his finger and hips, placing kisses on John's shoulders. "I want you to feel good," he said. After a few minutes, he added a second finger. "Keep moving your hand," he instructed.

"I will," John promised, doing it slower like Sherlock had asked.

"God, I want you," Sherlock moaned. "I need . . . to kiss you." He slid his hand from between John's legs and he grabbed for the condom. "Turn around, please," he said, stroking his own cock a few times as he waited.

John missed the feeling of Sherlock's fingers already. He shifted quickly and turned to face him, finding his mouth and kissing him hard.

Sherlock kissed John. He tore open the condom packet and slid it on before spreading more lube between John's legs. He took one of John's hands and moved it back to John's cock before lifting John's leg to have easier access. "Slow," he said, before lining up and pushing his tip in. "A stretch but tell me to stop if it feels like too much," he kissed John again and tried to move as slowly as he could inside.

The push through the muscle made John gasp again, and then his mouth fell open in pleasure as the stretch moved deeper into his body. That stretch was Sherlock and it was amazing. He was slow and careful and when he was all the way inside, John reached up and grabbed him. "Don't move yet," he said breathlessly.

Sherlock stayed still except to lean in and kiss John lightly. The way the tightness of John's body held him felt so good, but he tried to focus on John instead, not wanting to do anything until he was ready. "I love you, John Watson," he whispered and kissed him again. "Just tell me when to move or if you want to stop . . ." His hand on John's leg stroked the skin lightly.

"I love you, Sherlock," he said, nodding his head to let Sherlock know he was ready. This was the ultimate show of his trust for Sherlock -- whatever happened before was forgotten now -- he really was ready. "I love you," he repeated.

Sherlock started a slow, soft rock of his hips. The feeling was incredible. He kissed John's mouth and then moved to tongue John's ear. He could feel his own breath change as he sensed the change in John's body. "God, you feel good," he moaned softly.

John closed his eyes and focused on what he was feeling, all of the different sensations of being flushed and breathless and so very full.

Sherlock's hand moved to John's back, holding him. "Make yourself come, John," he moaned. "I won't last long . . ." He pressed his mouth against John's chest as he continued to move into him.

John slid a hand to his cock and stroked faster. When he came he called Sherlock's name and melted against his body.

Sherlock was overwhelmed by it all and he came as well. He squeezed his arms around John, bringing them even closer together. They were so connected. Sherlock had felt it in his heart long ago, but now it was literally true as well. He just held John as they both caught their breath.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock tightly, burying into his neck as he caught his breath. "Sherlock," he whispered.

Sherlock put a kiss on the side of John's head. "You okay?" he said, as he shifted a little, pulling out and getting rid of the condom. "You okay?"

John nodded. "It was . . ." he tried to speak but couldn't find the words.

Sherlock just smiled and held John in his arms. "Thank you, John," he said as he gave him a quick kiss. He lay his head on the pillow and closed his eyes for a moment.

John gazed over at him and tried to process what had happened, what they had just done. He had never felt anything like that before, not just the physical experience, of course, but something bigger. A well solidified knowledge that this was right.

Sherlock could feel John looking at him. He opened his eyes and looked back. "Please tell me everything's okay inside your head, John," he said. "I don't want to worry."

"Don't worry," John smiled. "Everything is perfect."


End file.
